broken neon tube. The only exercise I could tolerate was upon the Gauntlet – a now-extinct type of climbing machine. It resembled a section of a down escalator, up which you had to walk. I spent 40 minutes a day on this bastard. I didn’t run a step until

Harriers’ morning run. It can’t resist lounging in the pub at lunchtime when it promised Barry it would go to the gym with him. It can’t walk past the Agra Tandoori House at 11.15pm. It can’t bear to shed two stones of its unsightly flab, when this would

Did I ever tell you about the time I nearly froze to death on the remote Atlantic island of South Georgia? While running solo across the ice cap, I’d fallen into a swamp of frozen guano. My blood had attained the colour and consistency

As I once remarked to Rob Wright, a founder member of Numbskulls AC, “You know, running is a mental thing.” He nodded vigorously. “It certainly is, mate. Do you remember the Nude Year’s Eve Triathlon when we had to break the ice on Regent’s Park

-coloured waistcoat while I hold forth upon the agonies of running up and down sand dunes and the dangers posed by scorpions.Why do I do it? Well, partly because I have an unquenchable curiosity as to the extent of my own folly. Am I really about to embark upon a 333

ascetic I secretly aspire to be.Second, I’d love to run a sub-3:00 marathon before I drop. And I feel I’d stand a better chance if I didn’t have to drag my liver behind me in a dog cart.Lastly, I’m interested in what makes us happy. What is happiness

, on an empty stomach, quickly renders you insensible. By the time you regain consciousness, you’ve missed dinner.The effect on one’s running is dramatic. You feel as if someone’s lifted a hundredweight keg of lard from your back and grafted wings to your shoes