It's in the bag!!

Phone the engravers boyos - your kiddie here is back on track for Podium Gold in 2012!

A trek down to West Sussex yesterday at a time of day when decent people are still scratching their backsides saw Team Ron roll into town with just one thing on its mind.

To get the heck out of Worthing and back to civilisation as quickly as possible.

It was a miserable day. Cold, wet and blowing a bit of a wind when we arrived just before 8 o'clock - and, as it happens, I was bursting for the toilet. What really got my goat was that despite me being asked to run in the race, presumably to boost the numbers taking part, there was no VIP enclosure, no pre-race hospitality, no designated warm-up area - and, more to the point, no VIP loos. In fact, as I wandered amongst the gathering crowd nobody seemed to have the faintest idea who I was! What distressed me slightly was that much as I hate pulling the 'Don't you know who I am?' trick, I was forced to do so because .... there were just four portable loos between 700 runners.

WORTHING! WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO??

For goodness sake I have to live with my celebrity status on a daily basis - you guys only have to deal with me once a year and I suggest it ain't too much of a faff to provide me with somewhere to relieve myself. Anyhow, you can imagine I wasn't feeling best pleased as I lined up near to the start line to carry out my programme of anal crunches and pelvic thrusts - a site that caught the imagination of the local paparazzi - and you can imagine my horrror to see the photo below appear in this morning's Worthing Bugle - with your man here midway through his routine.


But as I stood on the line ready for the 20 gruelling miles ahead of me I was glad of two things. First of all I'd eaten a good pan and a half of Branston Baked Beans and I was also wearing a brand new pair of runners from my favourite shoe company - Brooks.

Well let me cut to the chase Ronners.

Because I only spud round the course in a personal best time of 3.10.44 - and that's a whopping 9 minutes under target and 9 minutes quicker than my target time!

Those Ethiopians, Kenyans, Franchies and Canadians will be waking up this morning in their small hut-like houses and quaking in their boots. Yes Sir! My performance had 'Gold Medal Quality' writ through it like a stick of Blackpool rock.

But my God was I glad to finish! The course itself is mind numbingly boring - it's four laps of five milea around the houses and sea front of this seaside town. This is a race that is designed to wear the title 'Boring' with pride.

So, you find your man here basking in a tiny bit of glory. I've had a couple of my Numpties massage my impressive calf muscles - and I'm going to treat myself to a bar of choccie.

Don't you just like it when a plan comes togther?

I'm going to take it easy now for a couple of days before tripping along the coast to Caravan County for a bash at the Folkestone 10 on Good Friday. Other than that it's taper time for your man here as we look forward to the next big one - the London Marathon.

Keep on tapering.

Ron