Last thoughts of the condemned

In just a few hours I will rise from my bed, rub Vaseline on my nipples, wince as my groin strain causes me to limp to the bathroom and make my way towards Blackheath for the start of the 2008 London Marathon. This will be my 5th Marathon so much of the excitement has now worn off. I know what to expect.

First, at or about mile 20 I will get dreadful cramp, mewl like a kitten and then have to walk and jog to the line whilst people shout “Come on Fat Bloke you can do it” at me encouragingly. This has happened in 75% of the Marathons in which I have participated.

Second, there will be freak weather conditions. I had 70 degree temperatures in November in New York for my first one and last year anyone wearing hair gel found their heads burst spontaneously ablaze in the 80+ degree temperatures that London got. This year we are promised rain. This means that should you tune in to the TV coverage at about 2 pm tomorrow you will get to see a sturdy man in a pink running vest being repeatedly struck by lightning as a tsunami consumes Canary Wharf.

As bolt after bolt tosses me biblically into the air, my thoughts will be of you gentle readers. Thank you for your messages for support and thanks especially to those who were able to sponsor me. Should I live I will be thanking you individually, but till then let me just say I am terribly grateful and proud to know you.

Nipples Beware

Without my really noticing, this year’s London Marathon has crept up on me. Crept may be the wrong word as it is closing on me at a more impressive pace than I can manage on any of my training runs.

As usual I am using charity as a pretext for self-harm. If you want to help me maintain that pretence you can do so by visiting here. It is secure, works with credit cards issued anywhere and, more importantly, is for a very good cause.