I knew I'd spoken too soon. Only did three miles last night (should've been four) as lots of niggly aches and pains were giving me warning signs. Probably should have listened to them even earlier though as I've now got a sharp pain in my lower left shin, just above the ankle. It hurts when I walk, just as my heel hits the ground. It's not unbearable but it's very uncomfortable.

Plus the old pain of a few weeks ago is back in the other ankle. My back also feels like it's on the verge of going. Every fucking thing is sore! I feel, today, about as agile as an 87 year old osteoporosis patient recovering from a double hip replacement.

All I can think about at the moment, is the 18 miles I have to run tomorrow morning. It seems ridiculous to be feeling so nervous about doing something which, at the end of the day, is my own choice. But I know I have to do it if I'm going to stand any chance of completing this marathon.

I'm trying to work out what exactly it is that I feel so anxious about. Is it the distance itself? It's the longest distance I will have ever run. But it's only 2 miles longer than the 16 miler I did two weeks ago. Is it the pain? It's bloody hard work; without a doubt the hardest, most exhausting and most challenging thing I have ever done in my life. And I am scared of the pain I suppose. But only in as much as what it would mean if I got any more injured - the possibility of having to pull out. The pain in and of itself is not really an issue - I've run through violent stitches, gigantic blisters, bleeding feet, burning shins and seized-up hips so far, and I've always, somehow, managed to finish. So is it the amount of time it takes then? I'm a really slow runner. So everything takes me so much longer than probably 80% of other runners. These 18 miles, based on previous performance, will probably mean that I will be continually running for around 3.30 - 3.45 hrs. Out the door at 9am and not back in again till 12.45. It's a daunting prospect.

Most of all, I think it's the fear that I will give up. That my attitude will be the thing that lets me down. Although I've never given up on a long run yet, the longer they get, the harder it is to keep digging deep and finding the resolve to carry on going.

Without wishing to tempt fate, this week's training is going reasonably well so far - in other words, no new injuries. 5 miles on Monday night at the gym. (Really starting to hate the treadmill but wanted to use the other equipment too) and 9 miles last night.



Early summer finally seems to have arrived and running along the beach road last night was gorgeous. The sun was setting and the sky was pale pink to the east and streaky yellow and blue to the west.



Everyone was out in force yesterday - dogwalkers, rollerbladers, cyclists, five-a-side footballers on Hove Lawns and scores of other runners. There was a nice breeze and I managed to run all the way from home to the marina, up into Kemp Town and down along past the Level to Spock's house without stopping. Picked her up and we did a couple of circuits of Preston Park (excellent speedy downhill track at the end of each one) before heading back to hers to watch the Apprentice.

That awful, creepy, completely non-self-aware Paul "there's no-one like me!" bloke was booted out. Hooray. Apparently he's only 25. Unbelievable. Looks about 125.

I'm a professional athlete, me.

Finally got round to buying some decent, proper, moisture-wicking running attire at the weekend. Trousers, top, wind jacket. This after my long run on Saturday was cursed by the frustration of my old and far too baggy trousers flapping around and threatening to fall down with every step I took, meaning I kept having to clutch them and pull them up every five minutes - soooooo annoying. In the end I gave up and let them hang and twist around my hips like a fourteen year old My Chemical Romance fan, but this resulted in my water belt rubbing directly against my skin and when I got home I realised that the friction had caused a red, neat, bleeding sore all around me. Nice!

There's so much to think about before a weekend long run (although this was one of my cutback weeks so was 'only' 12 miles) and they have now started to dominate my entire weekend. Friday nights I'm normally stuffing my face with carbs and drinking loads of water, then Saturday mornings I need to make sure I get another carb-filled breakfast and then wait at least two hours for them to do their job, and for me not to feel so stuffed. So I normally get up and eat porridge and bananas and then go back to bed for a bit (still gotta have that weekend lie-in or I feel totally robbed). Also need to make sure I'm properly hydrated, so am swigging water more or less constantly, and then a Lucozade Sport about an hour before.



(I know come June I will never want to see or taste another droplet of this stuff for as long as I live but it's the sports drink that will be used on the day so I want to get used to it).

Then I normally revise my running playlist for a bit just to mix things up a little, and work out my route on gmap-pedometer.com, before getting my gear on, warming-up and stretching.

Unbelievably, all this seems to take about four hours. This is because I'm a terrible procrastinator.

I didn't really enjoy the first half of this weeks' run, partly for the reason above, but also because my legs just killed for the first five or six miles. This problem I get with numb feet is really getting me down. I wonder why I get this? Again, I had to stop and walk for a minute in an attempt to make it go away. But it came back as soon as I started running again. Seemed to disappear on its own after about eight miles, so the last four were ok. I was very slow though. Although did have one very fast burst whilst listening to the Libertines and Super Furry Animals, oddly enough.

On a good note, the knees seemed to hold up ok, and today they are not too bad at all. Still very tender but not the really sharp pain that I was having at the end of last week.

It doesn't stop at the end of the run though. Need to spend at least another half hour stretching when it's over, otherwise I won't be able to walk the next day. Then the next hour is spent icing my knees and ankles........ and then the day is pretty much over. Jesus, what a thrilling life I lead at the moment.