The Fell Race – Part 1: Checkpoint Three
Gay Stories·EN·1 min read·Published 2026-11-07, updated 2026-11-07·Part 1 of 2
"You're doing brilliantly," said Ravi.
"I'm walking," gasped Joel.
"Brilliantly walking."
Joel laughed, which cost him his last breath. He was thirty, a runner from Leeds who had entered the Lake District fell race on a whim and was currently climbing a vertical hillside through knee-deep bracken in horizontal rain. At the top, a man in a bright yellow waterproof held out a flask of tea. He had a kind brown face and a stopwatch around his neck and was grinning as though he'd never seen anything better.
"Checkpoint three. Tea or water?"
"Is that a real question?"
Ravi, thirty-four, the volunteer marshal, handed over the tea and wrote down Joel's number. "You're the only one who has stopped to say thank you at every single checkpoint."
"You're the only one who has smiled."
"It's a long day up here." Ravi's grin widened. "Lovely view, though."
Joel looked around. Mist covered the valley in a thick white blanket. "I can't see anything."
"I wasn't talking about the valley."
Joel nearly dropped the flask. He finished the race forty minutes behind his target and drenched to the bone. At the finish field, in a muddy tent full of tired runners, he found Ravi in the same yellow jacket, serving soup.
"You came down already?"
"I got a lift. The last checkpoint closed." Ravi handed him a bowl. "I'm off shift now. May I ask you something, Joel?"
"Please."
"Would you like to get warm? Properly? I have a camper van, a heater and a very good thermos."
Continue the story: Part 2 – Warm Van.
Continue the story: Part 2 – Warm Van.
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Part 2 of 2: Warm Van · 2 min read
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