marathon not a sprint

Some of my earliest television memories were sitting down with my family on a Sunday morning and watching the London Marathon. From the comfort of the living room it always seemed such an amazing event to be part of as well as an incredible spectacle. After 25 years of armchair participation I finally decided in September last year that it was about time I had a crack at it. So 500 miles of training, 3 pairs of shoes and numerous niggling injuries later and I am about as ready as I will ever be to tackle 26.2 miles.

By the time your boxes arrive this week I suspect I will be nursing all sorts of aches and pains but hopefully basking in a small amount of reflective glory at finishing the course. I