Thirteen point one miles

Just entered the Plymouth Half Marathon with my buddies Richard and Chipbit.

Once The Plymouth Herald told me it was full - the fools - I presumed it'd be safe to stick my head above the runner's parapet, give them my details; sign up to the newsletter; and register my ageing loins safe in the knowledge the thing was chock-a-ruddy-block.

Nope.

So there I'll go. I can do about 5 english miles but then I invariably make like a 1960's t-shirt and die. The remaining seven and a bit look harder.

I can't say I'm too disappointed - it should be a fun day. And only a big family birthday last year stopped me then (though I would probably have engineered some other elaborate excuse.)