Father's Day

Last week I was on a train, this morning (for a very brief moment) I was running like a train and this afternoon, despite a long soak in the bath, I feel like I've been run over by a train.

I suspect that Father's Day is supposed to start with a nice, lazy morning in bed. Possibly accompanied by a lovely breakfast and the Sunday paper. I doubt it traditionally includes rising at 5.45am to make some porridge and banana before travelling 60 miles to take part in a gruelling race.

Still, that's what I did and very glad I am about it too. Leeds is the city where I was born so it was great to be able to run around the city centre streets that are so familar to me - the Headrow, Vicar Lane, City Square and Briggate.

When I ran my first 10k, 6 weeks ago I felt emotional at the end. This time I was emotional at the beginning. It was a great experience to take part in such a big event. There were 11,000 runners. The event was called the Jane Tomlinson 10k, after a very courageous and inspirational lady who achieved so much in life despite having terminal cancer.

My planning came to fruition and I was at the start in good time and took part in the warm up. This alone gave the sense of being a part of something.

But despite my plans I did have one difficulty as we were shepherded to the start - I realised I needed to pee! It was case of making a dash for the loo and probably missing the start or hoping for the best. Hope for the best it was.

I obviously I wasn't the only chap to be affected as I saw quite a few nip off the course as the race progressed. But I persevered. I presume the women suffered like I did.

Strangely, when I crossed the finish line the need was not so great. Where did it go?

The course was quite undulating and the most difficult part was the sheer volume of people of all abilities, which made it difficult to make progress at times.

I had a good start though and felt I was running very well about a third into the race. All the pasta I ate the night before and my morning porridge fuelling me nicely. The last 400 metres were the toughest as my tank seemed to be empty and there was a small hill just before the final downhill run towards the finish. Hooray!

My time was 56 minutes and 9 seconds, my best time so far.

I would love to get my time below 56 minutes and even down to 55 minutes if I can. Clearly, it is the course and the conditions that play a major part. Maybe a catheter will shave off a few seconds. I could hand it in at the water station.

My next race is not for another 6 weeks, in York this time. That is followed by what is described as a very level race at Elloughton just one week later. This is the race where youngest son takes on Dad and shows him how it's done. Or will he?

Live long and prosper.