Indialand - the end is near!!

So, my adventure in taking by storm one of the world's greatest events was almost complete. With my trophy safely in my duffel bag I couldn't wait to get home to face the media.

We were up at the crack of dawn to board our bus to take us back to Bagdogra. I bade my farewells to all the nice gherkin people and my Nippallese friends. I'm sure I spotted a tear in one or two eyes! I told them not to forget to watch out for me in 2012 – and my how they smiled at the prospect!

We were flying back to New Delhi for a couple of days R & R before my triumphant return to England and what would surely be a red carpet job. And as we drove in our bus down from the Himalayas, passing through the little villages with all those nice people living in hut-type things, passing through the tea plantations, passing monkeys, cows, water buffaloes and camels, I couldn't help but think how difficult it must have been for those nice people to wave bye bye to me.

The reason we were going back to Delhi - apart from letting MOS loose on the shops - was because the Half Share wanted to go to the Taj Mahal in a place called Agra. I told her that I'd been to the Taj Mahal in Hastings and it wasn't a patch on Pizza Hut - but she was insistent. So we left the mountains and flew back to New Delhi.

Of course we didn't need anybody to tell us we'd arrived - we could smell and damn near taste the place. We arrived back in 30 degree heat - but the entire city was enveloped in yellow, acrid smog. I told the chap at the car park exit I wasn't impressed and he promised to see what could be done about it.

The journey from airport to AJ's was, once again, hairy with the highlight being a spectacular crash with the car in front twotting and t-boning a motor cycle. Somebody really should teach these Indian people some driving etiquette.

In the evening we joined some of our fellow athletes for a farewell drink in a bar called Piccadelhi - which I found to be a rather amusing name! Food-wise we'd been well looked after but I was craving a steak or a pie. I settle for a non spicy Satay - which promptly blew my brains out - non spicy indeed.

Tomorrow we'd be going to this bally Taj Mahal Indian restaurant in Agra - it was going to take us five blasted hours to get there as well.

Well what a day that turned out to be.

Tell you later.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalayan 100 Mile Stage Race. Day 5 Palmajua to Manybhanjang

Friday morning and its up at dawn – 5 o’clock – to see the sun shining once more. This was going to be another glorious day – and one that would surely spread even more joy and happiness amongst those who had come to see me in Indialand.

Today is the last day of the 5 day event – a last stage for the runners of just 17 miles from Palmajua to Manybhanjang. As it was the last day of the race, Himalaya Charlie encouraged us to adopt an ‘end of term’ atmosphere. Well what a laugh I had! I put itching powder in Captain Underpants’ underpants; I put a worm in the South African’s corn flakes, I put curry powder in the shampoo, – and I threw a flour bomb at the Americans. It didn’t have the effect I’d expected – and it seemed to me that I was the only one who was entering into the spirit. Even the Half Share had a sense of humour failure when I tied her trainers to some nettles.

Some people eh?

My relationship with HC had been cordial for most of the week – I think he respected me. And my reputation had certainly been enhanced following my Warm Up routine with the Buddhist Monks last night. In fact even the local Police Chief popped in to the Lodge this morning and was discussing it with HC and his staff. Impressed eh? I was a bit puzzled when the rest of his paramilitary force turned up in a wagon and can only assume that they wanted some autographs or something – they were gesticulating wildly in my direction – so I gave them a wave and a quick series of five one fingered press ups before some of HC's numpties shooed me away – jealousy it was. Just didn’t like somebody else taking the limelight.

So, I’m feeling pretty good about life this morning. I’ve got a whole new legion of fans in this far flung part of the English Empire – wow how popular am I now then???

Today also saw a slight sea change in my relationship with the Half Share. Because I’d declined the chance to win this event I’d kind of seen myself as a sort of mentor to her during the week. And to get the best out of people I believe in using the cucumber and stick approach to motivation. So – the cucumber bit was my daily cursory hand shake and a nod – how motivating that must have been for her, particularly during the low points of her week? But, of course, with every bit of cucumber there has to be a bit of stick. So, I quietly, but firmly, asked her to consider something. OK so she’d taken part in one of the toughest races on the planet. And, yes, she’d finished each day, including the gruelling Everest Challenge Marathon. But was she really happy with her times? I mean – getting on for 11 hours for a marathon – that bloke with the diving suit didn’t take that long in the London Marathon did he? Her time for the 20 mile stage on Monday was way slower than she’d done in Gravesend – and Gravesend was hilly!! And her half marathon time would have been beaten by those four firemen who carry a wooden house round the Hastings Half Marathon.

So I thought my comments were constructuive and fair – harsh maybe – but fair. And I hoped that my little pep talk would really fire her up for today’s final 17 miles.

Well she must have got out of the Himalayasian bed on the wrong side this morning. And she went off on one of those illogical rants - ridiculously accusing me of being insensitive. Me insensitive? Is that calling the kettle brown or what? And there was more. “Out of touch”, “Did I have my head up my …?”, “I hadn’t a clue what she’d been through” etc etc. Errr ‘Hello’ – you’re talking to Ron here – I deal with pain, dedication, commitment, mental strength and pushing myself to the limit every day of the week you know. And if I hadn’t how come I’ve got such an impressive reputation for myself eh? How come I’ve created a celebrity culture amongst my Ronnettes?

Anyway no matter how much I tried to put my case forward she was having none of it.

And that’s how I found myself on the start line for the 17 mile race.

She was forcing me to run the ruddy thing.

No walking with my new friend Joe from Canadia. No trekking with my British friend George. And no shopping with MOS and her personal shopper.

So, by running the stage, said the Half Share I’d get a feel for what she’d been through. No matter this kiddie has been on the treatment table with a bad knee injury for the last three months; no matter I’d not run a single step in three months. But at the end of the day I was an athlete and I had a duty to perform. I’d had four hard days of trekking, covering around 45 miles – and the knee seemed to have stood up OK. And to be honest I knew that my presence on the start line would be a real morale boost to the other international athletes – and it would certainly provide a shot up the jacksie for Captain Underpants.

The route today took us by bus to Palmajua – basically the side of a hill – some 13 miles outside Rimbik, to a spot where the previous day’s half marathon had finished. The first 10K of today’s stage was all uphill – great! But the final 10 miles would be a mix of downhill and flat with a bit of uphill chucked in as we made our way back down to 6,000 ft.

From the off I made quite a determined start and we reached the top of the hill in just under 1 hour 50 minutes. By the time we’d reached the summit I was pretty confident I was in the lead – well I couldn’t see anybody but the Half Share around – and I was a good 6 inches in front of her!! Along the way we had some final but spectacular views of Mount Kanchenjunga and Mount Everest. At the top we arrived at a village full of those gherkin people who smiled and clapped and cheered us through. Three small children ran with us for about a mile – but I was feeling a bit puffed so I let them run on – the joys of youth eh? But from the summit down I once again felt the joy of running and realised just why I’d make such a wonderful Olympic Champion in 2012. I was good – and humble with it.

That joy of running thing lasted for about 10 minutes mind until I came across another uphill bit! We kept up the walk/run routine for the next 11 miles – and I have to admit to feeling a little jaded by the time I approached the end of the race. Mind you a 17 mile race up and down the Himalayas is hardly easing my way back in is it? But as we ran the last few hundred metres towards the finish line my thoughts turned to 2012 and my soon to be Olympic crowning.

Yep. Your man was back.

The last 100 yards down to the finish was packed with well wishers – there was also most of the rest of the field who must have dropped out and got a lift to the finish to cheer us in – and a band played that Nippall music which, to be honest, is a bit of a racket.

As we crossed the finish line we were presented with ribbons by local schoolchildren who had been given the day off to see an athletic icon in the flesh. The Half Share insisted we cross the line together and as we did so she started all that sloppy wet mouth stuff that I find so distasteful in public. I’d always prefer the cursory hand shake and a nod – much more professional in my view. Anyway I unhooked myself form the slobbering wreck and headed straight for the beer tent!

And the best thing about the day was that I managed to get a PB for 17 miles – an impressive 4 hours 49 minutes!!

Then it was back on the bus for the long journey back to Mirik – where after a shower and a kip I joined my fellow athletes in the bar for a few sherbets. The Half Share had managed to complete the full 100 miles over 5 days in 34 hours 50 minutes – so not for the first time in our life had she failed to come up with the full 35 hours in a week.

By contrast Captain Underpants won the event in a time of 14 hours 10 minutes.

Ridiculous if you ask me.

And so to a final dinner, a couple of beers, a presentation from Himalaya Charlie – and we then stayed up late till 9 o’clock!

Tomorrow it would be back to Delhi for a couple of days R & R before flying back to Blighty. The end of my adventure in Indialand? Not a bit of it matey.

Just you wait and hear what I got up to tomorrow!!

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalyan 100 Mile Stage Race. Day 4. Rimbik to Palmajua

Woke up this morning to the sun shining. It was going to be a hot and sunny day and with glorious views of the Himalayas today was one of those days when it was just going to be great in my company.



Bumped into the MOS and Personal Shopper first thing – she was trying to persuade a Sherpa to take her back up the mountain to exchange something she'd picked up in a small shop. The six hour one way jeep journey didn't seem to worry her.

Effort-wise, today was going to be an easier day. The runners had a simple half marathon – on road as well. Us intrepid Trekkers could do what we wanted – so we decided on a 10 miler to a nice little place called Shrikola – famous for its wobbly rope bridge – where we'd enjoy a quick lemonade before walking back in time for lunch and, hopefully, we'd meet the half marathon finishers. The route was very pleasant and we enjoyed some neat little views of the area – it was nicer than Bournemouth in parts. We passed a few Buddhist Monks on the way who blessed me and my friends – dunno what that was about but I felt a bit special afterwards. I offered to sign autographs but I think it got lost in translation.


We saw lots of interesting house-type places where the local people lived and I don't mind saying some of the sights I saw made your man here feel almost humble. I mean, I'm used to meeting ordinary people back home in England and I've experienced some of the poor parts of our own country like The North and Scotland. But this was different. But do you know – everybody we met had a smile on their face. Are you listening Yorkshire people?? There's just no need to keep moaning is there?

So, a very pleasant bit of diplomatic mission work by yours truly. I told as many people as I could about who I was and how I was an Olympic Champion – it was just so nice to bring a bit of extra sunshine into their little lives.

When we returned to Rimbik the runners had started to bowl in – the Half Share finished in 3 hours 15 minutes, I gave her the cursory hand shake and nod – but really, 3 hours for a half marathon? Not very quick was it? However I had to bow to her today – she was back in Rimbik before me so we were now drawing in the race to win the 100 Mile Race.



After lunch – Rupeee!! We had an afternoon off!!

After a couple of hours well earned kip it was what the organisers called a Cultural Evening. Evening. Culture? Don't make me laugh. I'd have had a better cultural evening sitting at the fridge door watching a yoghurt go off. The deal was that each nationality had to present something that was representative of their country – in a cultural way.

Well the Brits were an embarrassment. They mumbled and shuffled their way to the centre of the garden and proceeded to present some English culture to the local villagers. What was it? A pathetic rendition of London's Burning. God help us. I decided to try and rectify the situation by grabbing a couple of the local Buddhist monks and some of the youngsters and taking them through my Ron Warm Up – anal crunches, pelvic squirts, one fingered press ups and an old favourite of mine – the Groin Shuffle.


Did I wow them into a stunned silence or what???? Brilliant – they obviously felt I couldn't be topped and that more or less finished the evening off. I was satisfied that I'd made a significant contribution to England/Indialand relations.




I then gave the organisers some tips for the future. Rather than asking the athletes to do something cultural – just ask them to present their national pastimes. Forget the musical bits. So the Welsh could just have sat there and moaned; the Scottish people could just drink and fall over; the Spanish could spit, the Scandinavians could put some cheesy music on and taken their clothes off, the Americans eat pies, the Austrians yodel with funny shorts and the Dutch have bottom sex.

Despite daytime temperatures in the 80's, the night time saw the old mercury plummet to below zero – so after a couple of sherbets and a curry, it was bed at 8 o'clock. Tomorrow was a big day – it was the final day of the 100 mile race.

There was no doubting who would win the race – Captain Underpants was about a day and a half ahead of the field. But tomorrow's 17 mile final stage would provide a surprising little sting in the tail for those of you who know me ......

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalayan 100 Mile Stage Race Day 3. The Everest Challenge Marathon

The problem with staying on the top of a mountain is that there is not a lot to do. Our Sherpa Huts are very nice Sherpa Huts – but they are still just Sherpa Huts. Wooden huts, with wooden floors and a load of twigs burning in a tin can on the floor. No lights, no heating and the only facility a hole in the ground. In fact our huts are so basic that even the Sherpas sleep outside.

But I took comfort by mentally rebranding the place as my Olympic Village – but without Sue Barker.



After our stuff that tasted a bit like food – and remember that it was dark by 5 o'clock – the only entertainment available to the field of international athletes was ... me! Well I tried my best. I tried to talk to people about my achievements, about my Olympic Gold Medal in 2012, about my training regimes, about how I could have won this Indialand event if I'd wanted to etc etc.

Unfortunately most of them were obviously a little too tired and so by about 5.30 I was left with the bloke from Italy who ran with a packet of Benson and Hedges down his shorts. So, I chatted to him for about an hour or so – he was obviously enthralled by some of my stories, yarns and anecdotes because he just sat there listening intently – never uttered a word. Not even when I stood up and said 'Goodnight'. He just sat there staring at the floor.

So, it was bed by 6.30 for your man here. Which is fine. No need to get undressed because I slept in what I'd been wearing for the last two days. By 7 o'clock I was in the land of Nod. The problem is, though, that I'd had enough kip after 6 hours – and so at 1 am I'm wide awake – and I then had another restless four hours until it got to 'Up Time'. The wind was howling all night too as a storm raged outside our hut and the temperature had, once again, headed south of Zero. Inside our Hut, the air was so damp that everything – including bedding – was soaked in a film of ice cold moisture.



Am I describing the scene in a best seller kind of way for you?

Up I sprung then out of my bed and to my first job of the day - medication. More Dimox. Decongestion, malaraia, neurofen and some anti poo pills.

Today's stage is a special one – its the Everest Challenge Marathon – a 27 mile stage which has some bits of uphill, retracing some of yesterday's route, and then features a steep decline from 12,000 ft to 6,000 ft, finishing in the village of Rimbik. We're joined today by three particpants who have arrived just to do the Everest Challenge Marathon – they had arrived after a seven hour journey in a jeep up the mountain. It is of much comfort to yours truly that all the Jeeps being used are, in fact, Land Rovers – and British to boot. The comfort is tempered only by the fact that the newest in their fleet was manaufactured in 1947!!



Even though there were now two Swedish girls and a Finish man with a beard in our midst, everybody kept their clothes on.

As we waited for the start of today's stage I was suddenly overwhelmed by an urge to poo. I go red with the effort of preventing an embarrasing situation and try to take my mind off it by thinking of some of my favourite Cannon and Ball sketches and humming 'I'm a Little Teapot'.

The marathon runners set off at 6.00 bang on Himalayan Time at 6.45 and as its a big day for the Half Share I ask some American bloke to tell her to have a good race. At 7.15 we board our Jeeps for the 2 mile downhill journey to the start of our 8 mile trek to Rimbik. The journey is nothing short of hairy as we attempt to negotiate the steep switchback tracks – with sheer drops of hundreds of feet inches away from the door. Our driver tells us that its a tradition that visitors to Nippall are drawn to the beauty of the mountains so much that they swear to return within seven years. I remind him that there is a British tradition that if the driver didnt keep his chuffing eyes on the road I'd lamp him one.

So, off we set on our 8 mile trek – pah!! The distance was actually a tad more than 8 miles. We did 15 miles!



It is, though, a very pleasant route as we walk through the cloud cover from 10,500 ft down to 9,000 ft – at which point we enter the jungle. Now this is no pretend jungle – its a real live jungle with lots of green things hanging around, loads of different types of poo and, in fact, the place had a real Tarzan feel to it – heck it even had proper noises like they used to have on Daktari. The jungle in this part of West Bengal is home to Red Panda, Wild Boar (oh no!), Snow Leopards and lots of other animals that would have made Billy Smart happy. But though we heard lots of scary noises we didn't see any animals. Turns out most of the noises were made by a nutty woman in our group anyway.


The nutter was some kind of Red Indian woman from America. I walked the first five miles with her and got very annoyed at having to keep picking her up. The stupid woman had insisted on meditating as she walked – with her chuffing eyes closed! She kept saying that God would get her to the bottom of the mountain and how she didn't need her eyes. Well, if God was going to get her down he was having a bad day – and to be honest, just a casual observer though I may have been, God seemed to be pretty rubbish at getting people down mountains.

I eventually tired of the pesky woman and so, after, five miles I did the British thing. I dumped her and told her to liaise directly with her maker – and I'd see her at the bottom. I then caught up with MOS and her Personal Shopper who were composing a shopping list for when we arrived in Rimbik. Also walked a little way with my new friend Joe from Canadia and my British friend George. The last couple of miles were quite tough as we entered the village of Rimbik at 8,000 ft via a steep downhill cobbled track. The poo business was becoming a real problem and I had one of those embarrassing moments when I tripped over a tree root and did one of those trip/stumble/little run type sequences to regain my balance - with each step I took being accompanied by a short burst of wind breaking each time my right foot hit the ground. Our Sherpas seemed to appreciate my 'performance' and broke into a round of applause. I did shout loudly at them that though I might be a celebrity I wasn't a ruddy cabaret act – and told them to stop staring at me. I did subsequently apologise – but I just so needed the toilet I was just a tad grumpy I suppose.



Eventually we arrived at the Sherpa Lodge in Rimbik and I threw down my rucksack and dashed to the toilet – only emerging red in face some twenty minutes later. Thank God I can now forget about lavatorial issues.

The Sherpa Lodge in Rimbik is a stunning place perched on the mountainside with spectacular views and my welcome was complete when we were given a plate of chips with tomato ketchup and a bottle of beer. Heaven!! I was also able to change out of the clothes I'd been living, walking and sleeping in – and even enjoyed a hot shower. Heaven again.



Captain Underpants had been back in for hours after having finished the marathon in a ridiculous time of 4 hours 32 minutes, with the first girl finishing in 5 hours 10 minutes. Pah! Was I supposed to be impressed?

I then settled down and somewhat irritatingly had to wait the arrival of the Half Share. Nightfall came and we were still sitting in pitch blackness waiting for the bally woman to turn up. Whilst outwardly showing some signs of concern – particularly after hearing some of the horror stories from the finishers – inwardly I was feeling quite smug. For the second day in a row I'd beaten her to the finish – so I was now winning. Of course she would later claim that she'd done more miles than me – but, hey, whose fault was that?????

To be honest I was getting a bit miffed with all the hanging around and it was beginning to look as though I'd have to do my unpacking myself when she eventually bowled over the line after 10 hours 36 minutes. I suppose I was mildly impressed at her achievement and so, in addition to a cursory hand shake and a nod I gave her a bit of my Chunky Kit Kat. I reminded her that her time was slower than any of her previous marathons but she started to say how tough it was. Yeah yeah yeah – its just another marathon for God's sake!! Apparently the descent was very steep. So? I did the Loch Ness Marathon without whinging. I did the Bexhill 10K without muttering how windy it was on the sea front didn't I? Just deal with it!



Anyway my irritation was complete after she'd described every inch of the so-called murderous descent, down dried up river beds and gullies, how they had to run through the jungle and then across the bridge over the canyon at Srikhola. But apparently it was OK because Darren helped her down the steep bits. And Darren helped her across the rope bridge. Oh - and Darren looked after her when it got dark and she couldnt see where she was going. It was Darren this and Darren that and Darren the chuffing other. And then to top the night this bloke Darren - some South African bozo with acne - then started sniffing around "just checking to see if she's all right Mate".

Mate? Mate?

So I decked him and went for another poo.

Bed and sleep came rather more easily tonight. The problems with altitude would now start to ease, I could poo, I'd had a couple of beers and I'd decked a South African. Life couldn't get any better I thought.

Tomorrow - a pleasant day spent on a diplomatic mission to mingle with lots of foreigners. I'll tell you all about it soon.

Keep on tapering.

Ron

Himalayan 100 Mile Stage Race Day 2. Sandakphu - Molle and back

Well Ronnettes, my Day 2 of probably one of the greatest events you've ever seen me do, was eventful. I woke after another rotten night's kip to find that some of the ordinary people who were trying to do the event were struggling. With one American girl on a drip, a very nice English gal with a broken thumb and my mate George inconsolable due to certain bits of her body not working properly, we were a right motley crew.

I decided that the field of athletes might need some motivation so I began with my Very Loud Warm Up and Aerobics Session which I normally do to the accompaniment of some up-tempo Max Bygraves sing along records - unfortunately I didn't have any music so I just sang unaccompanied.


Well all I can say is if people don't like getting up early they should keep their feelings to themselves. They had no need to take it out on me and should, in my view, have shown just a bit more respect to an elite athlete.

The morning temperature was around minus 6 at 5 am - very parky indeed. And, I'm afraid I needed that visit to a place that was not in a hole in the ground. It was now some time since I'd last had a ... err a number 2. But today I'd got a plan. I'd noticed yesterday that the frequent Aid Stations provided by the organisers had a very small tented cubicle - inside which was a sitting down toilet thing. OK it then went into a hole in the ground - but at least I could sit down. So, my plan was to set off on Stage 2 and at the first Aid Station at 5 miles, nip in and get the business done. Well don't you just like it when a well made plan comes to fruition?




Well, it was pitch black in our Sherpa Hut - and, with no electricity, I fumbled around to take my morning cocktail of drugs. I counted out the tablets - Dimox for altitude sickness, 2 decongestion tablets to help my breathing, two neurofen to get rid of the stonking headache - and a couple of Ibuprofen to help with any possible knee pains.

Great, I thought as I swallowed them with some water. But wait. What were those two little white tablets on the table? Those were my decongestion tablets which meant ..... I'd only gone and stuffed two more Immodium down my neck! Potentially that meant I wouldn't be able to poo until Thursday!! This was turning from farce into disaster.

Regardless I decided to get myself ready for the day ahead. Before leaving Mirik, we were told to split our luggage into two - one lot to be left for after the race; and another bag containing the stuff we would need for the five days on the run.



I'd only gone and brought the wrong ruddy bag.

So, there I was stuck 12000 ft in the Himalayas, with no gloves, no hat, no coat, no running leggings. Sure I'd got books, suit, shirts and ties In fact nothing that could remotely be thought of as useful for running five days at altitude in one of the planet's toughest running events. I searched frantically through my rucksack desperately seeking something to wear. My spirits were lifted when I came across a pair of tracksuit bottoms - well that was a start; spirits then headed south when I noticed the Winnie the Pooh logo - I'd only got a pair of the Half Share's pyjamas in my luggage (Incidentally, I did chastise her for the Winie the Pooh stuff - in very poor taste considering my condions.).

The problem was eventually solved. I stayed in the same stuff that I'd walked and slept in - and stuck a pair of the Half Share's running tights on top.

Ronnettes - I was dressed like a prat.




But the show must go on - and so, I once more ventured out on to the freezing mountain top. The views of Everest and Kanchenjunga were obscured somewhat by cloud - but the peaks were there to be seen nevertheless. Today's stage for the runners was a 20 mile out and back stage whilst us trekkers could see how far we got. Captain Underpants got the runners under way and I mumbled my good wishes to the Half Share - and I reminded her to try and get a move on today. I had the company of my new friend Joe from Canadia, my daughter figure George (she said she saw me as something of a father figure which I found rather touching. I did tell her that if she was my daughter I'd still be bathing her but that didn't seem to go down as well I'd meant). I also eventually dragged the MOS and her Personal Shopper out of the hut - I had to say I needed to drag her kicking and screaming because she'd lost her Lidl Loyalty Card.

As the morning progressed the weather turned very pleasant and today's route was much easier than yesterday's gruelling uphill yomp. There were plenty of hills to climb but these were compensated by a bit of flat and downhill. The terrain was also slightly easier with a mix of those wretched cobbles and trails. I did find myself dreaming of tarmac a number of times during the week - and today I could have done with a nice bit of road.



Yesterday's exertions had taken their toll and I still found breathing when climbing a little difficult. The old legs were also feeling a bit jaded and I told my new friend Joe from Canadia that I'd woken up stiff this morning. She kneed my in the groin again.

But though my body was racked with the effort I did find some consolation in the fact that this is exactly the sort of pain an Olympic champion has to go through. A fact that escapes most ordinary people.

Upon reaching the 5 mile point I spotted the tented loo and gazed at it with cow eyes - oh why couldn't I use it? I tried eating a few cooked potatoes and biscuits from the station to see if that could galvanise anything into action. But nothing.




A further 45 minutes ahead though and I felt a twinge. Without becoming too graphic I realised that I needed to get back to the aid station. The Immodium had worn off. We'd covered around 7 miles - but the next two back to the station were almost agonising. Upon arriving I dashed into the tent and ... well lets just say it was a relief and leave it at that shall we?

I emerged from the tent some 20 minutes later to a distant but well-deserved round of applause from marshals, participants and locals alike. I heard them but couldn't see them though - but I found them hiding in some bushes about 100 yards away - what kind of game were they playing I wondered. The local Nippallese people came out to greet us and offered us Nippall tea. Now then Ronnettes. If a Nippallese person ever, ever offers you a cup of tea my advice to you is to be very firm and say "No. No, my Nippallese friend. I appreciate your offer but I cannot possibly drink tea with you owing to the vast cultural differences that presently exist between our two cultures".

The difference being that we put sugar in our tea. They put salt in theirs.

After 9 miles the offer to ride back to Sandakphu in a Jeep seemed to good to be true and we piled in for the journey home. The journey lasted precisely 400 metres when not only did the jeep break down but as we piled out we came across a young gal in obvious distress. We thought she was German so I was all for leaving her but then to our horror we discovered she was English. The poor lass was one of the runners but had found it all a bit much. So we decided to accompany her the 5 miles back to the finish line. The fact that she had to keep stopping to wait for us didn't seem to worry her and between you and I, I think she secretly enjoyed the experience of running with a celebrity.

The scenery today was spectacular as usual and, in addition to meeting lots of Nippallese people living in house-type huts we also saw many different kinds of wildlife including yaks and other kinds of birds.



So, my mileage today was around 14 miles - and the knee was still holding up.

When we arrived back I contemplated waiting for the Half Share to finish the race but it was so flippin' cold I decided to have a bowl of soup and a kip instead.

She eventually bowled in after 6 hours and 30 minutes and after giving her a cursory nod and a hand shake I reminded her that her time was about 4 hours slower than the Worthing 20. Honestly you'd have thought I'd insulted her mother - some people just cant take constructive criticism can they?

Captain Underpants once again triumphed today, with a couple of Brits in close proximity. More injuries amongst the 60 strong field though with the blood pressure monitors needed for the Americans. Also today ... the first signs of stomach problems! I shovelled Imodium into me again - I needed to be poo-less until reaching the Sherpa Lodge in Rimbik - our destination tomorrow. For the runners it would be the Everest Challenge Marathon.

Darkness arrived around 5 pm and so, after eating something that tasted a bit like food it was into the sleeping bag - still in the same clothes I started with on Monday morning! I went to sleep dreaming of tarmac.

Tomorrow I'll tell you about how I inspired all those runners to tackle the Everest Marathon - and we have our first chip in almost a week!

Keep on tapering.

Ron