This weekend was a big one. Our last official 10k for ICAAN and my last weekend pretending to be Dawn.

Julie and I chickened out of the Lambfoot Loop in Cockermouth on Tuesday - there was a big hill in it and Vicky had looked at the times from last year. The slowest person was 1.08. We don't mind embarrassing ourselves but thought it would be too cringe-worthy to take.

So we settled upon the 10k at St Bees on Sunday. There was also a 15k available - Vicky, Jill, Laura and Kelly were going to have a go at that. As we signed up to register, we flirted briefly with the idea of it. The moment passed. Thank goodness we did.

No one had warned us that much of it is off-road. Or if they did, I wasn't listening properly. I'm not a lover running on non-asphalt and it also felt a bit weird having to queue for the three stiles and two kissing gates that formed part of the route.

But it started off okay and I was pretty proud of myself - it was hilly on the road up to Sandwith but I felt as though I was coping well with them.

Don't get me wrong, it was a struggle but when I think back to how Brigham nearly killed me, I was, in comparison, flying.

I was also suffering after a running fall the previous day. That sounds dramatic right? It would have been if it hadn't been on the way out of the Lakes Home Centre car park. I'd only run three steps, skidded on a bit of asphalt by the bollard and then managed to surf up the path on to Low Road, half in the mud and half on the path. I hate that bollard.

Managed to rip my new running tights, shred one of my palms and a big bruise appeared on one of my knees - the other has a gash right across it.

It still hurts now, though I've had worse injuries. Blast my big feet.

But I'd promised Julie we'd do this 10k so, like the hero I am, I went. I also wanted to show off my new running tights. (Of course I had to replace the ripped ones).

Back to the race. It was going fine, until we traipsed over fields to the bit the bloke at the start warned us was "a bit steep".

Runners. They always play things down (flat course means at least five gradients of more than 45 per cent and "you're almost there" means there's at least five miles to go).

This was an almost 90 degree drop down a cliff face. And, by the time we got there, 150 people had trampled down it, making it extra muddy and slippy for us.

We inched our way down it until the point when I had a mini-panic attack and couldn't move my feet. "JULIE!" I bellowed, "MY FEET WON'T MOVE."

Poor Julie, who was quite a way ahead of me, had to come back and rescue me. It felt like it took us forever and then we had to negotiate a muddy lonning (which no one had mentioned) before taking on a cliff edge path until we reached the road again.

Julie kept apologising to me. Unless she devised the course, I don't know why she was saying sorry.

We got to the cottages on the cliff and there was a marshal and two Coastguard blokes. I yelled as I went past "Where were you two when I needed two strong men to carry me down that hill?"

Julie said: "I don't think they're that strong". Even the marshal sniggered.

We made it though. And despite being the last 10k-ers back, we had beaten Vicky, Gill, Laura and Kelly by just a few minutes. That was a novelty. I don't think I'll ever again be in the position to clap people in over the finish line again.

It was the most challenging 10k we'd done and a fitting end to our fundraising exploits.

I've enjoyed being Dawn and running 100k between us this year, to help a charity which helps families with autistic children. It does give you a warm glow.

Our next 10ks will be just for fun, Julie says.

I have a cunning plan. I'm going to sign us up for six marathons next year, then be mysteriously unavailable each weekend.

Dawn will have to do them, then. I think it's only fair....

To donate to our cause, visit http://uk.virginmoneygiving.com/team/JulieandDawn