After arriving back from a slap-up meat and two veg at Shenanigans on the Tacoma riviera (aka Ruston Way) and casting a mellow eye over the preceding entry, it strikes me, not for the first time, that this blog could be taken as awfully whiney.

What it's meant to be is just a straightforward record of the trials and tribulations of a 57 year old man pushing a body that has been put through far too much abuse into condition to run 26 miles. I knew it wasn't going to be easy but the truth is that I get a huge kick out of all this. If it wasn't hard what would be the point? I hope I get to cross that finish line because I think it will be one of the highlights of my life and a few months of agonizing pain mild discomfort won't matter a damn once it's over.

The last big week. Suck it up!