I sat atop the quartzite mound at the summit of Diamond Hill, a strong wind blasting my face and a fog as thick as pea soup blocking my view while slowly drenching me to the core. A magnificent vista of the Twelve Bens spreading out across the rugged Connemara landscape was supposed to have been my reward for running up the 7km trail from the Visitor Center, but even in this disorienting whiteout, I was blissfully happy.