Monday 21st June 2010

For reasons unassociated with the run I need to deliver my car to a village the other side of Malmsbury. I decide to run back. Between 80 and 90km is my best guess. I cut up lots of bits of map and mark a route. The first 30 or so km on road and trail then the rest along the ridgeway. Forecast is warm with no wind. I fill the back pack with as much liquid as I can carry. Some scooby snacks, shorts and t shirt for when it warms up, a phone and the bits of map.

I forget to put in a proper map and head off at 6am in order to give myself an hour to enjoy the roundabouts of Swindon. Bad start to the day.

I set off on my first long run. Immediately worried about the weight of the back pack and the difference it makes to my running. I hate it from the start and were it not for the fact that it probably saves my life I would have hated it all the way to the end. The GPS watch, on the other hand, I immediately fall in love with. It chunters away to itself (and me I presume) about nothing in particular. Talks to the stalactites in the sky and tells me how far I am going and all sorts of other useless information. Unfortunately nothing I can do persuades it to tell me where I am when I get lost in the woods around Wooton Bassett - the carefully disected maps long since having disolved in the persperation accumulating in the back pack.

I pass my first and last shop at 30km, refill the back pack and drink as much as I can. treat myself to an ice cream then head off up the Ridgeway. It's tough. Hilly, rocky and hot with no signs of civilisation. At 65km I use the last of my water. At 75km the perspiration dries up and my feet start to swell up. I start to boil. The anticipated gentle jog down the long hill into Streetley becomes a slow stagger. I get as far as the Swan where much-loved-wife comes to collect me.

I remember getting out of the shower shivering uncontrollobly but nothing else until the next morning. Apparently I didn't look very good but then I don't normally.

Tuesday 22nd June 2010

By the time my 9am meeting arrives I am feeling pretty ok - legs a bit sore but otherwise not too bad. Mentally I am struggling though. I try to imagine how I would feel if I had to head out for another 70 km that morning. I wouldn't be able to do it.

Then the good Lord throws in his two penneth. He sends down a couple for lunch who ask to see me afterwards. This doesn't usually bode well. But they just want to talk about the run.

'We think you are incredibly noble', the gentleman tells me.

I have to say I have been called all sorts of things - plenty unprintable - since I announced the run but none of them has been 'noble'

'Our son spent some time at Helen & Douglas House' he tells me. 'They are fantastic there. Really worthwhile cause'

'I'm glad you approve' I reply, 'but it's a bit early to be calling me 'noble'. I hope it all worked out for you in the end'

'No - not really' was his reply.

I am going to do this. Your money is not safe.

Monday 24th May 2010, 8 days since marathon

Decide to run to Chablis in aid of children's charities. Looks about 600km on the map. Figure 8 - 10 days should do it. Spend a few hours looking into children's charities. With help from Billie at Swiftclik and neighbour Martin Reith choose following three charities:-

• Helen & Douglas House - local hospices for terminally ill children
• Noah's Ark - London hospice for terminally ill children
• Starlight foundation - granting wishes for terminally ill children

Create a virgin giving page and put a large (emtpy) chablis bottle in the restaurant for donations.

Effect is immediate and dramatic. All of a sudden the magnitude of the task sinks in. Body has not even begun to recover from marathon so I have a few weeks excuses for not training but before too long I need to put some thought to it.

Saturday 19th June 2010

Buy back pack with inbuilt drinks containers and GPS watch. Assistant in shop gives me look reserved for jan 1st new Year resolution joggers when I tell her my plans. I assume she imagines me to be joking.

The morning after the day before.....

Monday 17th May 2010, the day after the marathon

Have to jog today due to on-going commitment to run every day (now 837 days old). Legs seem to have been borrowed from dining room table. But much-loved wife has treat in store. Yes. That was my first thought - but alas treat is 4 hour 'Sound of Music' tour. Misplaced logic assumes we will be the only people on the coach and I can sleep for 4 hours. Wrong again. I am number 52 of 52 and we have a singing guide. I am finally saved by a stop up in the hills at some church which apparently carries great meaning to the soundofmusicites. The fact that I can hardly walk means I only make it as far as the first open bar....

Much-loved-wife tells me I have thoroughly enjoyed my day.

Coach trip gives me some thinking time unfortunately. Well it was that or sing songs I didn't know from a film I had never seen. By the time we return to base I have decided there is probably no point in running any more marathons. Anyone who tells you they are fun is lying. They are murder. I give some thought to using my hard-won fitness in a more constructive way.........

Sunday May 16th 2010, the Salzburg Marathon, 42.2km

12 months hard training washed away on the wet, cold and windy streets of Salzburg. Everything goes wrong. Feel bloated, tired, stressed and most of all cold at the start. First half marathon fine (ish) 1.27.10. Maybe half a minute down on what I would have liked but nothing to worry about. Good job we can't see into the future yet or I would have stopped at the end of the first lap. Second lap nearly destroys me. at 25km I start to worry. At 30km I know things are going to go wrong. At 32km it happens. Stomach cramps, leg cramps, brain cramps. Decide to try and get to 37km where there is a 200m tunnel through to the finish. Get there and can't face the ignomony of quitting. Decide it is better to crawl home and finish than to quit. The one decision of the day I don't live to regret. No longer able to make sense of watch and believe I will come home in around 3.30. Comes as quite a shock to cross the line in 3.01.56. Wife and photographs confirm I look as bad as I feel.