It was about 3.30am, the sun was shining brightly outside, most of us were huddled in our sleeping bags trying to rest and keep warm (which was hard even with 4 layers of clothing, 5 pairs of socks and 3 hats inside a sleeping bag) when the call came – we’re running the marathon in 30 minutes, get ready. It was all a blurred rush. Before I knew it we had set off and I had not had time to even stretch, let alone put on my snow shoes properly. The first of the ten 4.2km laps was like an exciting novel adventure, winding our way round the Russian camp and the runway, and through the ice dunes that punctuate the flatness of the white, icey north pole landscape. At lap 2, it started to dawn on me that actually these laps take quite a long time, and that really it’s quite cold. It did not help that the tendon in my knee gave way at that point, meaning that for the rest of the race I was in a lot of pain, and that at many points all I could do was hobble and drag my left leg along. By lap 5 or 6, my whole face was frozen - literally – hair, eyelashes, skin: all white with frost and icicles. By lap 7, I had lost all feeling in my feet, but I thought I had just one lap left, only to discover that the race was 10 laps, not 8. The last two laps were simply spent dreaming of the relative warmth of the tents, hot liquid, and a cessation of pain. I stumbled home in 6 hours, once again relieved that the whole thing was over, and a litte frustrated that I had not been able once more to run injury free. Probably because of the slower pace of the race, it did not feel as physically exhausting or demanding as the Sahara, the cold and the pain in my knee had been the real challenges here. But i did it, and never have i enjoyed pot noodles and 5 cups of tea in a row so much.