Bad, bad Baddow.

A week is a long time in ... well its a long time isn't it?

And I really don't know where to start with my week.

I popped up to Great Baddow last Sunday to appear in their little 10 Mile event. I should have known when I woke up on Sunday and the sun was shining. It was very hot at 8 o'clock - so you have no idea how much hotter it had become by the start time of 11 o'clock!

Ronettes - I was flagging before I'd even started my anal crunch and pelvic squirt warm-up routine and by start time I was sweating more than an outed cabinet minister. As I set off, for the first time since I'd become an international athlete I knew that I was going to struggle. I had no energy. My renowned sprint start that has been known to leave Kenyans gasping in my wake wasn't there. Ronettes - I was barely recognisable as the Olympic idol you know and love. After 2 miles I had to take one of the most important decisions in my life. This, after all, is the chap that has done London, Paris, Amsterdam, Indialand and other places such as Reading. But ... Great Baddow had me beaten.

I dropped out of the race.

Let me just repeat that .... I dropped out of the race.

But as I trooped dejectedly back to the start, I thought to myself. Now what would Bobby Davro do in a situation like this? And you know what Ronettes? I don't know where I summoned the energy from but I made the decision that I wasn't going to be beaten by the course or the weather - I was bally well going to get round to the finish if it was the last thing I did.

At that point the rest of the field was long gone but I set off after them with some gusto - OK I lie - I set off after them with absolutely no gusto whatsoever. I couldn't wait till I crossed the line - which I did in over 2 hours.

Thank you Great Baddow.

Thanks a lot.

Keep on tapering

Ron