That is me totally physically trashed. In a moment of madness I decided to do a run I last did about 15 years ago - 15 miles of cross country with three chunky hills in it. I really haven't done anything like that for three years (when I did the Yorkshire 3 peaks) so I was working on base fitness from the gym, and physical memory of doing that sort of thing. I did 3h45m - and back in the day, when I was doing a lot more running and quite a bit younger I got it down to 2h30m. Anyway I'm not unhappy at age 63 that I can still cut the mustard to some extent.
It was made a bit more tricky that it started at 75F and finished at 83F. And made even more tricky that copious and corrosive sweat gave me an heroic dose of runner's crotch. When Carole saw it she said "how on earth did you continue with that". Well basically I had to - I had to get back to the car! But last night I was walking around as if I'd just got off a horse. A lot better today, but I'm pretty physically tired.
Definitely not looking for sympathy (as if! This is head-case!)! It's after all my own fault