How am I supposed to run with this?

The "this" I refer to, of course, is the stuff hanging round my middle!

I now understand why other Olympic athletes spend their Christmases appearing on celebrity Who Wants to be a Millionaire, being interviewed by Bobby Davro or competing in Ready, Steady Cook. That's why I'm marking next Christmas down as a dead cert two weeks off.

Its impossible to do any serious Olympic training because I seem constantly to have either a glass of something or a chunk of meat in my hands. Being a popular athlete and something of a media celebrity I'm also in demand to attend parties, corporate functions and community events. Well I should be - and this is something that is beginning to rankle. To be honest, the only invite I've had is from the local Jehovaha's Witnesses to join them for a cup of coffee and a mince pie. I gave that one short shrift and instead concentrated on a spot of carbo laoding with my mate Ernie.

It culminated in a turkey-fest yesterday that's left me clinging on to the Andrews tin this morning and wondering just how my colleagues in the UK 2012 Olympic Elite athletes squad will be spending their Christmas. Because, as I sit here now, slightly flaky I admit, I'm actually waiting for the Half Share in the House to bring me my lycra - because this kiddie is not anticipating another day of consumption - I've got a Gold Medal to win!

Yep - you see your man here has that dedication, that drive and that determination that separates us Special Ones from ordinary people and Welsh men. And that's why, in a little under two hourse, I'll be popping along to Westfield for one of those piddling 10K's. Yep - that's right. I'll be pounding the streets again. And tomorrow I'll be down at Stallones my local gym for another hard session before packing up the Alegro for my journey into the unknown on Friday. In other words, the training just doesn't stop for us kiddies.

So, on Friday I'm going to a place called the North to take part in the Ribble Valley 10K in Lancashire. I don't venture up north too much because I like my car and would like to get it back in one piece. But I understand that as a media celebrity I'm 'ownded' by the whole country - not just the civilised parts. So, I'm going to try and ingratiate myself with those poor northern people by trying to identify with their hopes, their dreams and, of course, their peculiar dress sense.

Of course its not my first experience of the north, I once went to Northampton and I used to like Little and Large. But it did get me thinking about the north. And I've come up with these ten great reasons why everybody should try running in the north of England - at least one.

1. You can run with your dog.
2. You don't need fancy running shoes - wellies, brogues or boots are perfectly acceptable.
3. Pie stations on the course.
4. You can take the mick out of people from Yorkshire and know that everybody will love you even more.
5. You can get to call everybody 'Cocker'.
6. All the other runners are smiling even though its lashing down with rain and you're running up a hill.
7. You can turn up in a 1994 Ford Escort and people admire your car.
8. You know that the T shirts you get for finishing the race will always be big enough for you.
9. Running in a string race with braces on your shorts is considered acceptable.
10. Carbo loading Lancashire style is just wonderful - pies, peas and Eccles Clakes.

Anyway, you carry on lying on the couch, braeking wind and reaching for another can of Worthingtons - I've a Gold Medal to collect!

Keep on tapering.

Ron