I'm no anatomy expert but whatever it is that holds your tibia to your femur feels stretched from the effort of sooking ones gumboots out from the mire. The mud is become a spurned lover, clinging first to one foot and then the other.
Underfoot is grim and overhead, on the stages, things aren't any more inspiring.
Some of the best work is happening on the smaller stages: Dry The River and The Imagineers on the T Break Stage and Admiral Fallow on BBC Introducing.
On the Main Stage Nicola Benedetti opens, punctual and elegant. It's a bold move, having this virtuoso violinist play to a rowdy festival crowd, but it works. It really does. Maybe because by the final day of a festival things have generally become so bizarre it doesn't matter there's a classical violinist followed by McFly.
Sadly, after Benedetti, things stay staid, the violinist being the day's only wildcard. Keane are predictably predictable; Chase and Status liven things up with a glitter canon, though you can see the stage crew visibly wilt at having to sweep the red sprinkles all up; Bombay Bicycle Club are charming enough; James Morrison is fine.
If anything can rescue a festival crowd it is Elbow, who make the sun sound like it is shining, even in the depths of muddy despair.
Guy Garvey is a man of infinite charm who knows exactly how to work a crowd of any size. The finale of One Day Like This, with its sweeping strings, casts a musical light over the crowd. "So throw those curtains wide," we all sing along. "One day like this a year'd see me right." It could go on forever and it nearly does but eventually the band wrap up and it's a classic festival moment, one song that always sees things right. Thank you, Elbow.
By early evening it is so gruelling to travel between stages that you feel deserving of something special for making the effort. This memo was not passed to Nicki Minaj, who arrives 50 minutes late and arrogant on the Radio 1/NME Stage. Justly, she is booed. Maybe were she Beyonce or Rihanna she could carry off such japes but she's not and an earthy Scottish crowd will not stand for it.
This year a tent named Kaleidoscope Club houses a random array of fun. Whisky Kiss, a traditional Scottish music group are trying to engage the crowd, with some success, in a Strip the Willow. They play while short-kilted female Scottish dancers and male break dancers perform at the front. It's a hoot, more fun than much of what's happening elsewhere.
As the day draws to a soggy close the headline acts take to their individual stages. In front of fancy animations and behind plumes of smoke comes Skrillex in the King Tut's Wah Wah Tent, flicking fast beats and bright lasers on to a crowd determined to make the most of T's final hour. Swedish House Mafia, on Radio 1/NME, and The Horrors, on Transmissions, do admirable closing jobs.
But most eyes are on the Main Stage, where Kasabian are strutting a fine line between laddish and irritating. They have 90 minutes to play with and use them to trot out an accomplished and engaging line up of hits. A finale of Fire is exactly what the festival needs as a final anthem and an impromptu singalong of the Beatles' She Loves You closes T in the Park 2012 in a thousands-strong intimate sing-a-long.
There may have been no surprises this year but there were no complaints and there was fun and that a good festival makes.
