.And yet the intense feeling of relief that overwhelmed me on that occasion was nothing compared to the all-suffusing ecstasy I experienced as I tottered off Queensboro Bridge into Manhattan at Mile 16 of the New York City Marathon.It was the contrast, I

’were ’is next door neighbours, like. To make things worse, he were sick on their cat.”“Aye. He ran a crackin’ race next day though. Knocked three seconds of t’ Commonwealth 10,000m record, as I recall.”“Four, actually.”“Ah,” says the angel on my left

in case I had hypochondria. I get it when I’m meditating, too. I’m supposed to count out 10 breaths while concentrating wholly on my breathing. If my mind strays to anything else – Ducati motorcycles, the size of mangoes, the Shania Twain video – then I

In the last 20 years, running has become inextricably entangled with fund-raising.Correct me if I’m wrong, but until the first London Marathon we ran only for ourselves. When we turned up in the rain to plod round the Cabbage Patch 10, the last

, hero) has done his back in again. And my Achilles is playing me up something rotten.”“I can just picture it,” mused Sandra, drily. “Like an episode of Last Of The Summer Wine.” The course encompassed the whole of Dartmoor in a wide, sweeping circle