I've been running as a hobby since 2001 and cried, vomited and wheezed my way to finishing a half-marathon in 2004, vowing that I'd hit my physical and mental limit and never do anything so stupid again.  It was more sensible to stick to 6km ambles as a way of keeping some of the cocoa-butter from taking up permanent residence in my thighs.

However, a lingering yearning has emerged. Call it ageing, vanity or the ability to fart at will and realise that it's going to occur during every run and I'm no longer ashamed of it, but I want to run a marathon.  To give it a red hot go, taped up achilles, bright red face and weird sideways-swishing arms notwithstanding.  I'll be forty five-and-a-half on the Big Day and if I can do it in five hours I'd be absolutely thrilled.  

Just to complete it would be dream come true, and why not do some fundraising to keep the motivation up and have a more selfless goal to work towards?

Every little donation or word of advice will help. I'm excited but also very afraid. What have I got myself in for?  Will my ancient carcass handle the training regime?  How many pensioners dressed in gorilla costumes wil overtake me?

Time will tell.