I did it My Way

It's over.

5 hours 53 minutes 53 seconds.

Not the fastest time, and slightly outside my 5 hour target, but I finished, I wasn't last, and the roads were still closed. To be fair they gave those African chaps a bit of an unfair start by putting them at the front, I never stood a chance of winning. It took me 15 minutes to cross the start line (see picture) !

It was a glorious start to the day, sunny but crisp.

The crowds were superb all the way. There were bands, children wanting you to high five them, and offering jelly babies and wine gums. A real party atmosphere.
I was grateful I had my name on my shirt, because having your name shouted and chanted really helps you when it gets tough.

And tough it did get. Miles 15-20 were horrible. Every step was forced through these 5 miles.

But once you get to 20 you know you've done it. Even if you had to walk, or crawl, you've done it.

And my family were there cheering me on with 385 yards to go. In the pouring rain. Good job too. It hid the tear in my eye. What a great ending.

I enjoyed myself, and in the end raised well over £3,000 for NSPCC. Money which will be well used by them. Thank to all of you for that. I was amazed by everyone's generosity.

I would recommend you to do it. If I can do it, anyone can. I was horribly unfit at the start.

It made me eat better, exercise and drink less.

I feel so much better today then 6 months ago. Well, perhaps not today exactly...but you get the idea !

I shall keep it up (except for the doner kebab, cider and, er, the extra pizza I had last night - but I had earned it, hadn't I ?)

Will I do it again ?

No.

Tomorrow, it's only a day away

So, here we are. This time tomorrow I will be somewhere near Tower Bridge all being well. About half way around the route. Hoping the rain stays away so that the crowds don't - it will be really important to have people to cheer you along when the going gets a bit tough. Excited, yes. Nervous, yes. Looking forward to it though. 6 months of preparation for this. I have finished my high carb meal, and I am just off for the afternoon to watch my wife in an AmDram show. No running this week, but I did build a pond in my garden. The weather man claimed there was a drought, so it obviously rained every day while I was building. The irony is I can't use a hosepipe to fill it. But my fear of any accidents or muscle strains doing DIY are unfounded, and I feel in tip top shape for tomorrow. No excuses. Now need to avoid injury watching the Sound of Music, and a movie night with my kids tonight. what could possibly go wrong? The next post will be post-race. See you on the other side !

Rising up, back on the street

I went for my last run on Sunday before the big day.

I had downloaded 100 hits of the 80's to my iPod. My entire teenage life was in the 80's, so this music is very much the soundtrack of my youth.

10 miles, not too stretching, nice day.

I had already progressed through Europe, Wham and Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and had transported myself back to the days of school disco's and awkward conversations with girls.

Isn't being a teenager crap ?

I then got to the bottom of a long uphill stretch that I don't especially enjoy on my route.

The iPod burst into life....Survivor and The Eye of the Tiger.

I became Rocky Balboa.

I ran up the hill at quite a lick, and, yes, when I got to the top I raised my arms and did a few jumps with air high-fives. Bring on Mr T.**

An old lady with her dog turned back quickly and walked the other way.

I felt great, and even Rick Astley and Bucks Fizz didn't dampen my good spirits.

I am ready for combat next Sunday morning.

Ding ding.

**Please note, if you have never seen all of the Rocky Movies, these references are meaningless.

To beer or not to beer ?

Now we are in the business end of Marathon preparation.

3 weeks to go and it is very real indeed.

It was my wife's birthday and our wedding anniversary last week. Following celebrations for both, I have stopped drinking alcohol until after I finish the marathon.

And now, all I really want is a beer.

This was the bit I was dreading most if truth be told.  Forget the training, the cold mornings, no desserts, and the inevitable pain I shall suffer running the marathon itself.
No, the hardest thing for me will be no beer at all for 24 days.

I know there are many people who would have no problem at all with this.

But I am a social animal. I enjoy a pint and a glass of wine with friends. 

And, despite plenty of video evidence to the contrary, I still believe I am funnier and better looking when I have a drink.

It has been heading this way for weeks - I have slowed up my drinking a lot. I even went to a very nice restaurant the other evening with my wife and ordered, wait for it, a half bottle of red wine.

I embarrassed myself. Surely only old people ordered such items ?

The waiter was unimpressed too. I don't blame him. Maybe I should have worn elasticated trousers and slip on shoes too.

Still, there is a plus side. Though I hate to admit it. I feel better than I have for years.

I have lost over a stone now in weight, I sleep exceptionally well, and I ran 10 miles comfortably on Saturday morning with no ill effects.

Basically, I am now fit.

I expect after all this I will keep up the fitness. 

I will have the suits taken in on the basis I intend to remain at the weight I am now into the future.

I will deny myself the odd culinary delight, rather than eat it because it is on the menu.

But...I think I will also enjoy that first pint about 4pm on Sunday 22nd April.

I just hope I've finished the Marathon when I drink it ! 

"Whoa oh, we're half way there...."

Silverstone Half Marathon, Sunday 11th March.

Several thousand runners.

I joined the back of the crowd with a mixture of excitement and nervousness about whether my body would hold up.

The sun was shining and the mood of the crowd was very jolly.

I ran around with Status Quo and Elvis Presley.

No, not delirious - on the Ipod.

I shall watch the British Grand Prix with more interest now I have actually run the circuit. I believe they do what took me a couple of hours in about 30 seconds.

I enjoyed myself a lot, but struggled from mile 10 onwards. Need a bit more fitness for the London Marathon itself.

I finished though - 2 hours 46 minutes. Not great, but fine for now.

I was narrowly beaten by a giraffe and Percy Pig - still not delirious, charity runners.

It seemed most of the runners were charity of one sort or another, and I had a fantastic renewal in my feeling that there are a lot of good people in the World.

All in all very uplifting.

I recommend you do it yourself next year. If you are delirious.

"Shirts or skins ?" said Mr Jones

I reminisced about school games afternoons this Sunday morning.

I went out in the cold sleet and my fingers slowly went numb as I jogged along, cold and wet through, with each impact of sleet stinging my face, arms and legs.

As a schoolboy, games afternoon consisted of one team playing in shirts, with the opposing team playing 'skins'. All well and good when the weather was fine, but brutal when it wasn't.

I seem to recall playing skins quite a lot, but maybe that is my mind playing tricks. I recalled one hellish afternoon as I jogged along, when we played rugby in torrential hailstones in mid-winter. 'Character-building' said Mr Jones the PE teacher.

We came back in so cold, that when the showers were turned on, the hot water also hurt us when it hit the skin and it took hours to revive our fingers which were curled into balled fists.

He was a proper bastard, that PE teacher.

But I was forced to do games at school. On Sunday I did the same thing of my own free will.

Maybe I hadn't built my character enough at school - needed a top-up in my forties.

I thought I was mad, but I ran past a woman jogging along whilst pushing a pram in that weather ! She must have been really bad at character-building at school. Probably didn't do shirts and skins at her school though...

Anyway, I am pleased to report that the calf muscle is now feeling okay. Not 100%, but okay.

I ran again this morning - 5 miles and all is well.

Just as well - I have the Silverstone half-marathon this Sunday. It is my test of how far I have progressed in training. I need to see what happens to my body at that distance. It will be the furthest I have run in over 20 years if I finish.

Hope the calf holds up.

And no hailstones.

That's torn it

I went out last week for a run and experienced a bit of cramp in my calf muscle.

I was running an 'out and back' route.

Typically, It happened at the very furthest point away from the house.

I have never had it before (other than in the middle of the night when you least expect it).

It was pretty uncomfortable, but I decided that I would run it off.

That night it hurt quite a bit, and remained like that for a few days, so I stayed away from the running.

Then today I went out again and got about 200 yards before my leg refused to have any more weight put on it. I walked for a bit and tried again. Same reaction.

Oh dear. Very bad.

I rang my physio was was free in the afternoon.

"Are you still doing that marathon, Steve ?" he laughed when I arrived.

"That depends on your diagnosis".

I explained the problem, and he asked if I had stretched before my run today.

Well, sort of.

I have seen people 'stretching' on the telly and what not. So I had grabbed my ankle and waived it around a bit in the air, lunged like a musketeer and then contorted myself into unnatural positions against the wall.

He was unimpressed by this stretching description and decided to look at my leg.

He then pressed and punched my leg while I had a bit of a swear.

"Ah" he said "you have a slight tear in your short calf muscle"

"Is that common injury ?" I enquired.

"Yes, if you are a fatso who does no exercise and doesn't warm up properly"

Actually, he didn't say that, but I'm pretty sure I heard him think it.

As it turns out, by spending only £100 with him and giving it a few days rest I should be back on the pavements again next week.

Oh, And he showed me how to stretch properly.

Are dogs smarter than men ?

You may have noticed that it has been cold recently.

You may have also noticed sad, solitary, runners plodding along pavements with red faces, dripping noses and sagging shoulders.

You may have subconsciously turned up the heating in your car slightly as you drove past them.

I was one of them.

I got out of bed the other Saturday morning and changed into my running gear by the back door. The garden thermometer said minus 9.

The snow hadn't melted in my garden or along my road.

It was 8am and icy.

I prepared for a 4 mile run.

I then fully realised that this marathon was doing strange things to my sanity.
My  faithful companion of 9 years, my border collie Tom, a man's best friend, looked up at me from his bed in the back hallway and cocked his head to one side as I opened the back door and gestured for him to join me.

He didn't move.

He has never turned down a chance to go out in his life.

His look said it all.

He looked away, laid his head back down and closed his eyes.

Too bloody cold even for a dog.

I went for my run. My shoulders sagged, my face stung and my nose started running.

I'm sure the bloke in that car that drove past me just turned up his heating and laughed.

26.2 miles !?... I laugh in your general direction

I was lent a 'motivational' book on running to help with my mental preparation for the race.

It was by a man called Dean Karnazes. He is an ultra-marathon man.

Anything longer than the traditional marathon is known as an ultra-marathon, apparently.

Dean runs a lot of these races. He has run across deserts and has run to the South Pole. He has run 200 miles continuously without sleep. I think you start to get the general idea of what sort of individual he may be.

And he is from California. Woop woop.

If you get a bit of time in what is left of your lives, it may be worth a read. If not I shall summarise.

Dean runs a lot.

He puts his body through unimaginable pain and in all likelihood terrible permanent damage which will reveal itself when reaches his older years.

And man oh man - he LOVES that pain. Woop woop.

The more pain the better the gain.

I think the message is that if a regular everyday (ever so slightly mad) dude like him can run and run, well, just about anyone anyone can. The pain is just pain and can be mentally over-ridden. A marathon is for breakfast (and yes he does sometimes run a marathon before breakfast).

There is something in here I'm sure, but I am not sure how motivational I found it to know that, as far as he is concerned, a marathon on it's own is a bit wimpy.

Real running starts where 26.2 miles finishes, he says.

Perhaps I should do a lap of honour when I finish then ?

Maybe better if I just run for another 100 yards or so once I hit the finishing line. That must then qualify me as an Ultra Marathon Man under their rules ? Cool, man.

Alternatively, if you are inspired to run 100 miles instead, and become a proper runner, have a look here http://ws100.com/.

Dean's run this one a lot. You get a free belt if you don't die.

Woop woop.

Enter The Dragon

It is the Chinese year of the Dragon. Singapore was celebrating for many days whilst I was there.

It is a auspicious year in the Chinese horoscope.

Good fortune for all.

I hope so. I am beginning to think I may need a hand from Lady Luck.

I failed miserably whilst in Singapore to train. A combination of terrible jet-lag with high temperatures and humidity stopped me punishing myself by running.

But I now feel guilty.

I have 13 weeks to go until the Marathon. All the training schedules tell me I should be running further and more frequently than I am.

Are they just being over cautious ?

As a lifetime non-follower of rules and strong advocate of going the opposite direction to the crowd, the voices on one side of me say...

"Don't panic Steve. That just them setting unrealistic guidelines" (much like all that nonsense about 20 units a week, and sell-by dates...)

 

but the other voice says

"Why would they do that Steve ? This is different, this is about getting around in one piece you dum dum."

I am training, I am doing well, and I feel pretty good. I am a stone lighter than I started.

"You are doing well Steve - keep up the good work...and you look great."

The first voice is still winning the fight. Phew.

I am sitting here having a large scotch whilst writing this, might have another now I know it's all okay.

I shall console myself that there are probably hundreds of prospective marathoners in the same boat at the moment,

"Yes that's right, precious. Lots of us in the same boat."

All is well.

"Keep calm, don't panic. The dragons are watching over you."

Go on then, bartend, make that a large one.

Outdoor sauna anyone ?

I am off to Singapore on business this weekend.
I have always loved it there. It was my first 'proper' business trip many years ago, and I spent a prolonged period there in the 90's. It was the start of a love affair with the place, and I am lucky to still have reason to visit regularly now.

I would recommend anyone to take a trip at some point in their life.

I shall be packing my running gear this trip so I can take some runs along the Singapore river early in the morning before work, and indeed before it really heats up.

Singapore is equatorial in climate. It is a constant temperature all year round. Somewhere between 28 and 32 degrees is typical. And 80%+ humidity. It rains quite a lot too. Proper hard rain.

That will make it a bit like running in a sauna.

Whilst jet-lagged.

It will probably be quite hard going, but I imagine it will be very good for my sinuses and skin.

I don't expect to be confronted by the same conditions in London on 22nd April, but you never know after this 'winter' and with the ice-caps melting at pace.

I think Chinese New Year celebrations will start when I am there so I shall also attempt to upload a colourful picture or two in my next blog.

This does depend on me getting the hang of my new phone which seems to have more technology built into it than I am ever likely to need in my life - unless I choose to launch a space rocket. 
It also makes phone calls apparently.

I shall ask my ten-year-old for guidance on it before I leave.

Chocolate or death ?

New Year's Resolutions. Always hated them.

People giving up this and that just because the clock trips past 12 on 31st December.

Fags, booze, less weight, new skill, work harder, get out more blah blah.

My answer is the same every year. "I don't make resolutions". No point. I never mean it and therefore won't stick to it.

I think that's normal, by the way.

That, or all my friends and colleagues lack willpower.

In fact, I generally got a bit grumpy with people who said they would give up booze for January. It meant I had no one to go for a pint with. Selfish bastards.

I made it a mission to wave booze under their nose until they cracked. Go on, just the one.

I haven't made any resolutions as usual for 2012. No bold claims.

This year is bit different though. I have a proper target. A real goal.

I have no choice but to change my behaviour. Well, at least until 22nd April around 3pm when I cross the line.

It is now me who is denying myself pleasures.

Me putting my hand over my glass after just one drink, me turning down choccies and pudding, me having beer waved under my nose by grumpy non-resolutionists.

I have to. This is self-preservation.

If I don't do it, it will hurt more, or I won't even make it around. A proper incentive.

I have to finish for so many reasons - pride, achievement, letting people down.

Failure is not an option.

Maybe that's the trick of it.

Maybe I should set up a service next December which people sign up to if they want to give something for New Year. If they fail there is a punishment system.

Obviously the scale needs to reflect the level of failure of the resolution. Eating a biscuit whilst on a January diet perhaps just deserves a small punishment. Forced to watch Jeremy Kyle or go shopping at Ikea, for example.

Clearly at higher levels of failure the punishment gets more severe.

Flagrant drinking after announcing to the World on New Year's Eve that the glass in your hand was the very last drop you would touch forever and ever, clearly being amongst the worst.

Not sure how far to go - would probably need a disclaimer system and legal advice. But in principal I think it could work.

Or it would stop people making pointless resolutions.

What did the Trojans ever do for us ?

Running whilst hungover is not in any training schedule I have seen.

It's not very easy either.
Unfortunately, It appears to be a normal part of Christmas season training. I feel a sense of guilt about not training a couple of times a week, so this must continue, but I also am now swimming against the tide of lunches and seasonal drinks and losing.

I decide that Canute could not hold back the tide, nor shall I try.

Instead I shall explore a variety of hangover cures to find out which goes best with exercise the morning after.

There are three, after extensive (i.e. google search) research which seem viable for me;

1. Take a shot of neat oxygen. I understand from medical friends that this cure is used by many junior doctors after a heavy night out. A little worrying, but if it is good enough for a medical professional then it's good enough for me.

2. Eggs, bananas, fruit juice and glucose together replace a lot of the items your body loses when drinking alcohol. I have tried this route only this morning, and I can confirm that I feel quite a bit brighter only two hours after their consumption. I consumed the items separately this morning, so I shall press on with my research and use my smoothie machine to combine them all in one drink next time. At the very least it will give an unloved kitchen accessory a rare run-out.

3. More alcohol. Specifically a Bloody Mary. Apparently the vodka in it in some way 'tricks' the body into absorbing the good things in the tomato juice. An alcoholic version of the Trojan horse - whilst the liver and kidney draw swords to take on Captain Vodka, the other ingredients slip past and enter the bloodstream quickly making you feel better.
My history teacher at school always said that the past teaches us valuable lessons about the present. If the Greeks sacked Troy using this slight of hand, then I feel that a cheeky Bloody Mary in the morning can only be good for me.

There is a fourth option, of course - don't have a drink in the first place.

Sounds the hardest of the lot to me.

Non-starter.

Right, where does one buy oxygen from ?

Does running make you a Buddhist ?

You may be reading this blog and thinking that I haven't done any running at all. I hardly mention it.

Running, in itself, is a bit dull. I don't mean that in a bad way, but it won't make for very good copy as a blog if I describe every run.

But I noticed something the other day as I was running. It was a beautiful, crisp, winter morning. The sun was blazing down and I was running along a road with a superb view up into the Chiltern Hills.

It was a morning which grabs you, shakes you, and tells you how lucky you are to be alive.

After about 30 minutes jogging I realised that I had spent the time jogging and thinking about nothing.

Nothing at all.

I had cleared my mind completely and just jogged.

I forgot about everything for 30 minutes.

I used to work with a guy who claimed to be a Buddhist. He talked a great deal about meditation and achieving a zen-state by trying to clear your mind of all thoughts.

I think I did that jogging the other morning. I was obviously in state of Zen.

What an interesting thought - I shall ask other joggers whether this is normal for them too.

I saw one woman jogging along the embankment the other day with a cigarette. I probably won't ask her about Zen.

Perhaps I am on the first stage to enlightenment and Nirvana.

Perhaps I can master levitation next ?

If I can, it will make the marathon an awful lot easier.

Kaiser Wilhelm, Santa Claus and my thumbs

Training in December is not easy.
I am being hampered by three adversaries in my ongoing quest for fitness and weight loss.

Firstly Kaiser Wilhelm.

He is to blame for daylight saving. In 1916, Germany and its allies in WW1 decided to change the clocks so that less coal would be burned by the populace and saved instead for the war effort. Daylight saving means any sensible training must take place in the dark during the winter. This is not only depressing, but also a bit dangerous if your eyesight is as poor as mine.

Secondly, Santa Claus is coming to town, as you may have noticed. In fact, I saw my first Christmas Tree in a hotel reception in September. I hesitate to say, "it comes earlier every year" in case I end up sounding like my parents. But September ? Really ?


Christmas brings severe challenges for the weak-willed glutton  - of which I am one. I am trying to lose weight for goodness sake. I went to my first Christmas meal with old school friends and their families the other weekend. The tables were laden, positively bowing, under the weight of Xmas hams, turkey, and assorted seasonal goodies...

And several deserts - including a cake made with two entire boxes of chocolates as a topping. As I note that my December diary has several extensive lunches already slotted in, I fear my waistline, which was showing some signs of receding under the training regime, may not trim down as fast as I would like.

I have also noticed that our house has started to acquire little boxes of After 8's, Chocolate Oranges and Matchmaker's on various surfaces. These items have a direct correlation with the arrival of Christmas, and I almost absent-mindedly find myself dipping into them en route to the kitchen or dining room. Devil's work they are, these nibbles.

Finally, I have had two instances of 'reflex texting' in the last two weeks. This is the instant response to a text from my wife over which only my thumbs have control and my brain does not. It goes something like this, usually around 8pm, when on my train back home from work...

ME : What's for dinner ?
WIFE : Haven't made anything yet been busy with kids
ME : Shall I buy something to cook when I get in
WIFE : It will be too late by the time we eat
ME : I have only had a sandwich today
WIFE : Take out ?
ME : Kebab ?

The last one is the reflex text - I am trying to give them up. But it's so hard. The Government should do leaflets on the NHS.

Way to many weighs

I need to lose a bit of weight whilst doing this training.

Perhaps a stone ? Just a wee bit less impact on my poor old knees.

I've never really followed a diet. I like food too much to consider denying myself any pleasure. But needs must.

I ask the advice of the internet to help me fathom out which is the best weight loss programme for a budding athelete hoping to continue the pleasures of beer and take-aways for at least a short while.

My goodness, there are a lot of diets out there. How do people cope ? It's bewildering.

Eat this, not that, instantly contradicted by another internet 'expert' on nutrition. Some give food different points, some tell you how to cook food, some to starve yourself frankly. All of them charge you though, this they do have in common.

I decide to use common sense, which is free still.

Cut down on cheese, bread and beer.

Sounds easy to me.

I have to suspend common sense for a few days though. I am off to Ireland for a christening.

Guinness will be taken in quantity, I expect.

Possibly potatoes and bread too.

I'll stick to my guns on the cheese though.

Newton's laws still hold true

I went to my gym. It was still where I left it..

I was feeling good. In fact, quite excited.

I had to have the electronic key to operate the machines re-set by the girl in charge (apparently I hadn't been for a while and it locks itself after 6 months...)

The girl asked me if I needed any explanation of how the machines worked.

I said no.

She asked my if I was training for any particular reason. I told her about the marathon and received the usual look up and down accompanied by the slight widening of the eyes.

I decided to have a quiet jog on the treadmill and watch the first half of the football on the in-built TV screen.

All was going well. Very well. I had broken into a light sweat, but no adverse feelings at all.

I then started to get slight pins and needles in my foot. New trainers, I thought, probably a bit too tight.

I decided to step off the treadmill and loosen the lace.

I didn't switch the treadmill off.

I believed I could turn and step off in one smooth movement.

I couldn't.

As if in slow motion, the impetus took my feet from under me and I ended up on the floor behind the treadmill on my backside.

I thought I had gotten away with it.

I thought no one had noticed.

I sprang back to my feet instantly with only damage done to my dignity.

But the girl in charge of the gym for the evening clearly had a health-and-safety-insurance-claim panic and ran across the gym floor saying "My goodness, Mr Mattey are you okay ?" far too loudly for my liking.

I adopted a teenager stance and mumbled I was fine without making any eye contact and wishing her away as fast as possible while she fussed about showing me how the machine worked.

Especially the big red 'STOP' button. She focussed on that one a lot.

I left shortly aftwerwards.

Doctor, doctor, I may have gone mad

Week Two - 23rd October

Since I can't do any exercise until my back is healed, I decide to at least have a medical check to ensure that death is not an inevitable consequence of starting exercise after 20 years off.

The doc and I know each other well. Upon hearing that I planned to run a marathon she gave me the same quizzical look I am beginning to become used to from everyone else.

"Best have some blood tests too then" she says.

Height and weight. No shockers here - still the same height, and weight within broad limits of tolerance (over 14 stone and I would have to have re-considered kebabs as a food option)
Blood pressure - 120/80 - Woo hoo !
Cholesterol - 5.4 - Bad gymnast score, but apprently ok for cholesterol
Liver and kidney function - normal (didn't ask for a recount on that one - but seriously considering legal action against several vinyards for sub-standard products).

Having this medical re-assurance, I then go shopping. As this is a new hobby I decide to overspend on equipment I don't understand and may not need.

Sports Direct have a sale on and I am now substantially poorer but fully armed with over-priced specialist trainers, rather-too-revealing lycra and assorted flourescent clothing. I have belts to hold waterbottles and Ipods simultaneously, and a pair of fluffy Christmas ear-muffs (a late addition to the shopping pile by my youngest daughter).

The back will be fine in a couple of days, I reckon.

Gladiator.

Ready.

Fell at the first hurdle

Week One 16th October -  training starts.

I recall I have a gym membership I am paying for every month.

I'll probably get up there today and ease myself into a light treadmill run and bike ride.
Maybe a nice sauna afterwards, but resist the pint in the bar and instead have a fruit juice.

Filled with a new sense of purpose I get out of bed and immediately fall down my stairs.

I land fairly hard on my back.

Hard enough to wiggle my fingers and toes before attempting to move, just in case.

I had hurt myself. I knew it wasn't a quick fix either. I couldn't even get my socks on through the pain, let alone try any exercise.

I visited my physio a couple of days later -  I hadn't seen him since the previous year when I performed a knee slide across a dance floor with the kids at a friends wedding and popped my knee ligaments.

He advised me that I had 'knocked' three of my ribs forward slightly in the fall and he could manipulate them back, which he did.

I told him I was running  the London Marathon.

He laughed.

Trousers, beer bellies and unnecessarily difficult challenges

About a year ago I thought I needed a challenge. A visit to M&S to try on a pair of trousers seemed innocent enough. But mirrors on three sides of the changing room, and unforgiving flourescent light confirmed my worst fears. The overweight, middle-aged man looking back at me from several unflattering angles was, indeed, me.

Over twenty years of fine dining, not-so-fine dining, inactivity and pubs had taken a toll on what had been a relatively trim figure.

In my twenties, I had run the London Marathon twice. The fit, former version of myself, had managed this with little training and in pretty decent times for an amateur.

Why not a third medal then? I mused. Have them framed and mounted in the downstairs toilet at home. Impress the neighbours.

Having quickly (and easily with the assistance of red wine) convinced myself that marathon running is mostly a mental challenge, and I could additionally pretty quickly shed 3 or 4 stone and return my body to the toned beauty it once was, I enthusiastically launched myself into the web and applied to run it. I also backed up the official entry with a offer to a charity I have long-supported, NSPCC,to run it on their behalf in return for a place.

Then I forgot I had done both....
Leap forward a few weeks to hole 8 on a beautiful Surrey golf course, I decided to check my e-mails whilst waiting for my partner to find his lost ball. There it was - "NSPCC are delighted to offer you a place at the London Marathon 2012."

Success !

I was childishly excited that I had a place.

I played on with my mind racing.

And then began the slow realisation of what I had done.

I was over 40. I was overweight. I have high blood pressure and high cholesterol. I don't do any exercise to speak of (I am told golf doesn't count as exercise).

And 26 miles is a bloody long way on foot.