at the start. In fact, he ran the first 10 miles of the Sierre-Zinal mountain race under provisional plates, before formally ‘coming out’ as a competitor.Some might say his circumspection borders on the psychotic. I might have said so myself, six months ago

of the suicidal ordeals he undertakes each year, alongside the equally crazed Sir Ranulph. It was humiliating that, despite a tendon and cartilage injury that should have confined him to bed for a fortnight and kept him out of competition for three months, he left

.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

, and my field of vision is restricted to a 15° arc on either side of my nose.Until I wrecked my suspension during last year’s Swiss Alpine Sad Old Nutters’ 78K Marathon, my only serious running injury had been incurred while stretching. But now I was a

implant and bright green, the creature offered no obvious sign of traumatic injury. Perhaps, assailed by the baking sun and the remorseless gradient of Mile-And-A-Quarter Hill, he had simply lost the will to live. I could identify with that.Now I

‘won’t’ as can’t. Back in the 1950s, my mother caused a scandal when she ran away with a sausage salesman from Penge. They met at a ballroom dancing class and rumba’d round the world for a year before settling in Mauritania. By this time, she

.“It’s me back,” muttered Big Ron. “It hasn’t been right since London.”Good Lord, someone had actually run a race! Perhaps there was hope for us yet!“You never told me you were doing the London, Ron. How did you get on?”“Not this year,” he snapped. “1996.”“1994

sprinter until his knee injury. He now drinks 14 pints of beer a night, is roughly the size of a detached house and devotes himself to bare knuckle fighting in Wokingham high street.Anyway, the Samoan has started on the cheesecake, my Pinot Grigio

lake for the 200m Skinny Dip and you got arrested for frightening the Muscovy Ducks?”“Yes, but…”“And what about the time we did the Midsummer Madness race and Roger had six pints of Tanglefoot and a cream tea and we had to carry him over the finish line