The moment when things unravel

There was a moment up in the mountains of the Lake District on Sunday when I knew things were beginning to unravel.

About a third of the way through our 'Frog Graham Round' ultra swim-run challenge, although we had already been battered by the wind and rain for over 6 hours, we were doing ok.

Visibility was down to a few meters in front of us and we somehow managed to miss a turning to the right as we followed the top of a a craggy cliff face around.

You can see the point this happened in the Garmin screenshot below, just below the compass...

Small divergences

Unbeknownst to us, the small divergence from our intended path was about to have disastrous consequences.

The 'path' that we were on gradually petered out as we dropped down into a valley, and a few moments later the clouds lifted just enough to see the other side of the valley looming in the distance.

We were both soaked through and starting to get very cold, as the downhill section had dropped heart rates and reduced the body-warming load on our leg muscles.

The goal suddenly changed

As the realisation dawned on us that we were going to have to get down and back up the impossibly steep other side to resume the path, ?that was the moment our goal changed from completing the challenge to safely getting down from the mountain.

It was pretty hairy negotiating the steep climb up from the river bed.

Guy was being hit by waves of intense leg cramps that slowed his progress down, and the wind wasn't showing any signs of dying down.

But what do you do?

You can't just throw your hands in the air and say 'I give up!'

The only thing you can do is to keep putting one soggy foot in front of the other and keep moving forwards.

There's no sense in focusing on the problem or what you should have done. that just wastes precious time where you could be thinking about the solution. 

Putting the most important things first

Later on in the safety of the support van I looked back over that precarious hour where we were so vulnerable to the terrain and weather and thought about that missed turn. 

I had been checking the map regularly throughout the morning to make sure we were on course.

But at this point the path we were following seemed so obvious; we 'knew' where we were heading, and getting the map out to keep checking in the driving wind and rain was becoming more of a chore. 

So we blindly stumbled on, driven by that false sense of certainty that often precedes disaster.

Climbing out of that ravine I kept reminding myself of the importance of putting the most important things first.

At that point it was simply to get both of us off the mountainside, which meant the 'inconvenience' of checking the map more frequently.

An extra check at just the right moment could have saved that slight divergence, and the series of unfortunate events that followed.

Are ?you checking in with the course you're on regularly enough?

Being off track with a few habits might not make such a big difference right now, but over time they can add up to you missing your goals.

Check in with your progress regularly and make course corrections early.