start with a session of tempo intervals. How about six minutes brisk, one-minute walk, six minutes brisk, one-minute walk, six minutes brisk.2. Hills are also an excellent way to start speedwork. Try 6 x 1 minute uphill, then jog back down. Gradually

every few minutes as you're running, to get a general idea of your rate throughout the session. You will probably find that, even if you maintain the same pace throughout, your heart rate will rise by 5-10 beats over a period of 30 minutes

. First Avenue was a blur. In Central Park I was a neurotic wreck on the edge of a panic attack. There were lots of hills, but I flew up them. I must have overtaken a thousand runners in two miles.One of them was my teammate Greg – handsome, intelligent

the first race in 1979.Horses, having twice as many legs as people, invariably win – despite compulsory vet inspections. This is just as well for sponsors William Hill, because they’re offering £20,000 to any runner who beats the horses to the finish line

it will never catch, I am reduced to the ruin who scratches out these sorry lines for you tonight.Was it only 20 years ago that, fresh of face and fleet of foot, I carved out my daily mile around the South Circular, from Clapham Common to Streatham Hill? Behold

of miles, I began to experiment with alternative scenarios.“He was abducted by aliens in Neasden.” “Kidnapped by Muswell Hill Runners. They’re demanding a ransom of 50p, but I’m refusing on the grounds that such a sum far exceeds the dog’s true value

at the open door. I noticed, for the first time, a peppering of grey about his muzzle. As I limped down the hill, I was overtaken by a pack of athletic snails.Nowadays it takes a good 10 minutes before the sharp pain in my right knee subsides to a dull

-country 3%Triathlon 2%Trail races 2%Fell 1%Adventure 1%Ultra 1%I take part in races... Never 21%1-11 times a year 68%12-24 times a year 9%25-52 times a year 2%More than once a week 0%I also do these sports... Gym 16%Swimming 18%Walking (hill walking

Yesterday was a monumentally significant one. I tottered out of the house with the traditional Sunday morning hangover and Oscar the dog, and swayed blearily down the hill to meet the usual suspects – Highgate’s equivalent of the Chelsea Pensioners

is setting benignly over an ancient, bucolic landscape, as old as the (in this case entirely imaginary) hills. The running is brilliant. I was pessimistic, I have to say – this is East Anglia, after all, the Wheat Bowl of England where the arable land