To Steep, a child.

I am not now, nor indeed do I ever remember being, pregnant.

This does not explain why I am to a degree, exhibiting some of the characteristics of a pregnant woman. Most recently, I appear to have been travelling the roads of Dartmoor with a developing child nestled somewhere about my abdomen, if on-line evidence, photographic, is to be believed.  Associating with slim cyclists apparently does not flatter.

I also appear to have developed the selective memory of those lucky ladies who have delivered with great pain, a delightful result. The toil has disappeared in the afterglow.

This seems in marked contrast to the experience of producing nothing more than a frustrating outcome at similar events in the Lake District and our venerable Somerset hills. Plainly Devon air has a magic all its own.

My hopes are that in future I can deliver similar sensations without the gestation period , or indeed the requirement for a swollen middle .

Silver - 7 hours 34 minutes 2 seconds. I'm honestly not competitive.