It's funny because I'm one of those people that, like, I'm quite mentally tough. 

I'm not being a dickhead or big-headed, but I'm probably mentally tougher than I am fit or talented at running.

I did a road marathon in April when I'd done no marathon training. There was a marathon the week after, and my coach was like, "Just go and try and do it, see what happens," and again, that's all about mental toughness.

On the longer ones, the problem is the sleep deprivation.

Dragon’s Back, that's a funny one because I've done that twice, and it’s tough. The camping and the night stuff are pretty rough—you run all day and then have a night’s sleep, and then you've got to get up and go again. I did a 200 miler in December, non-stop, and in 70 hours I slept for an hour and 20 minutes, but I just wanted to get it done. So yeah, it's a weird mentality.

Also, so many people don’t finish that race because of their feet. I think I’ve been lucky that mine haven’t been bad enough, but that one was pretty bad.

I don't tape my feet if I'm going training. I might next week when I'm in the Alps because I need to get back into race mode, but for races, I tape my feet, and quite a lot of the time I tape my toes. Then if I'm on a 100 miler, I’ll probably try and change my socks, but when I'm in a competitive race like the 100 miler last month, where I was fighting for a podium place, I didn't bother changing anything because I was too scared for the time.

I tape my feet up, but whatever I do, whatever trainer I wear, my toes get mashed, and I mean after the 200, it was the worst.

Apart from my two baby toes, all my other toenails are gone. Big toenails, everything. The full top rips off, and it's pain you can endure, but it's really gnarly pain. I guess because I can either endure the pain or they have been okay, I've just kind of stuck to that routine. I think a lot of this comes down to your mental strength, doesn't it?

So the first year doing Dragon’s Back, I missed a cutoff by 12 minutes, and I just thought I have to get back and finish it. It was my first experience of multi-day racing, and I was super green, and I didn't really know what I was doing. I was just completely in the deep end. When I got knocked out, I was then only doing it for fun.

There's two of you in each pod, and then you've got a little bit in the middle that's a shared space. There was a girl in our tent who was still in podium contention, so when she got in late one night, I helped her sort of get out and get her sorted, so it just depends where you're at. People are either in bed and fast asleep or they are helping each other.

If you're coming in at the same time, you are there helping each other out, and the medics are quite strict; they don't help. You have to know how to do your own feet—they only deal with you if it's really bad, but you have to bring your own tape, and you're basically expected to be self-sufficient.

My family thinks I'm mental. I'm like, it's the best form of home avoidance ever; there's no noise. Some days you don't even see anyone. It doesn't feel like a chore. Like Sunday, I literally went around for four and a half hours, actually dying, but it was so beautiful. You know, you just see mountain tops and peaks for miles, and you're just like, "How lucky am I?"

Yeah, and I guess now, the running is part of me and who I am, and if I can get one or two girls out there believing they can go and do this stuff or get into the mountains, then how cool is that? 

That's the main reason to do it.