Himalaya 100 Mile Stage Race - Stage 3 The Everest Challenge Marathon

Today was going to be a big day. Not only was it my third day of the Himalaya 100 Mile Race; not only was it the eighth marathon of my glorious career; not only would we, at last, be going down to below the 'altitude' level of 6,000 ft - today was the day I'd be able to have a poo.

Now I'm sorry if that offends or lowers the tone of your morning, but, although it is a tattoo subject, it is a subject that occupied my thoughts for quite a bit of my time spent at the top of the mountain. I've already mentioned that the facilities were quite basic, well they were even more basicer when it came to the toilet department. Now, OK, they had a loo. And it was fine if you wanted a number 1 ... but this kiddy has standards when it comes to the old number twos - and I stand for nobody. A hole in the ground with footprints to stand in is something that I will simply not engage with. I leave that kind of primitive behaviour and third world toilet standards to the one country that steadfastly refuses to come out of the dark ages - France. So, I was a little surprised that Indialand still had these kind of facilities - there are thousands of them in Paris and other small places in France - but lets just leave them there eh?

Anyway, that was my motivation for getting down the mountain today - I would at last be able to sit down and mind my own business. The other thing I was dreaming of was a drink - not a tube of Carling or anything like that - but just a cold drink that was anything but water. For three days now all I had drunk was water and to be honest I was beginning to get sick of the taste of the stuff - and I craved a coke or an orange juice.

You see what altitude does to us elite athletes?

So it was up again at 4.30 for the big day. The Everprest Challenge Marathon. Now most of you will know that a standard marathon distance is 26.2 miles. Well not in this part of the world it ain't!! Nobody really knows the true distance of this race but it is believed to be between 28 and 33 miles!

The route takes in 10 of the first 20 miles of yesterday's Stage 2 before returning for six miles and then beginning a descent from 12,000 ft to around 6,000 ft. A four or five mile stretch along the river to Rimbik takes us to the Lodge which would be our base for the next two nights.

There were quite a few nervous people lining up at the tape today. An old man called Albert kept forgetting where he was; my friend from Bracknell just kept looking at his friend Georgio with that strange way he had of moving his eyebrows; the Argentinians were still insufferable; and a nice lady called Jo gave me a sweetie and a 'good luck' flick of the ear - which I could have done without to be honest.

As we started the day's Stage at 7 am, this kiddie wasn't feeling too bright and I found it difficult to run any of the straight or downhill bits at the beginning of the race. So, at about five past seven I realised that today was going to be a long and difficult day for me. I was certainly going to be walking a great deal, if not all, of the course.

I struggled over the first ten miles - the last mile up to the summit at Mohle, in particular, was another punishing incline that reduced me to 20 or 30 steps at a time before stopping for breath. Once I reached the turnaround and the start of the reverse journey I was feeling wrecked.

One or two of you may know that I overcome great adversity to become an Olympic elite athlete and the Good Lord chucks a number of spanners in my saddlebag to try and make things just a tad more difficult. One of these is my health. I am a diuretic which means I have to watch my blood sugar levels - particularly when I'm winning races. I tend to control the bulk of my conditions by diet - and, depending on how my sugar levels are, will regulate my pies, kebabs and tubes accordingly. In addition to a cocktail of drugs (not one of them performance enhancing I should add) I also carry glucose with me - so if I do feel a bit Gordon Brown I can give myself a quick fix.

Well half way back along the ridge to the 16 mile point I suddenly realised that despite putting one foot in front of the other I was actually moving sideways and not forwards. Being quick thinking I soon realised that this would not help my progress towards the finish line. I then began to feel very, very dizzy. What was happening? What was happening? I'll tell you what was happening, I was only having a diuretic emo that's all! My body was crying out for sugar - well, actually it was crying out to sit down in an easy chair with a pie and a beer, but you get my draft. What was I to do?

Well, its at times like this that the true athlete emerges. I thought to myself "Now, what would Nicholas Wychell do?" So,I stopped and I stuffed a couple of glucose tablets down my neck.

Nothing.

The mountain started to sway on front of me and I started to illuminate. I thought I saw Fabio Capello in front of me but it was just a tree with a funny shape. I then thought I saw Dawn French staring at me - but it was just a passing pair of Yaks.

As I continued to feel the south side of peculiar, a knight in shining armbands came to my rescue ... only an upstanding member of the Indian Army that's all! The young chap had seen me obviously in some distress and approached me and said "Sir, you are staggering". "Well, I said, you're a bit of a looker yourself sunshine but now's not the time or the place". Anyway, to cut a long story in the bush he grabbed hold of my arm and escorted me to the side of the track and told me to sit down. Which I promptly did. On his bloody gun!!! How embarrassing. So, there was a bit of nervous pulling and tugging until he'd retrieved his rifle. And, dear Ronette, that is how my Everprest Marathon came to be saved by the military! After a few minutes rest, the old glucose kicked in and I was able to shake him by the hand, he took my photograph and off I popped back on the way to a famous marathon finish.

I had a bit of a strop and a barny when I reached the aid point where the route then turned to the steep descent. The chap there asked me if I wanted a torch. I was half an inch away from decking him - but I let diplomacy get the better of me and restricted myself to a playful kick on his shin - but I grabbed the torch anyway. And my was I glad I did!!

The descent was only supposed to be about 5 miles - well I don't know how far it really was but it took me nigh on four hours to do it!

On the way down I'd met up with a couple of local scallies who offered to accompany me. I lost them after about an hour when - wait for this - they started following a trail of pea pods. I kid you not - apparently peas are the most expensive vegetable in these parts so they cleared off and ended up with a rucksack full of the things. In the meantime a couple of marshals clapped on to me and said they'd walk with me to the finish - and to be honest Ronnettes, I needed them. By 4 o'clock I was still only half way down the mountain and it was starting to get dark. By 5 o'clock I was trying to scramble down the Himalayas in the pitch black dark with nothing but a handy little torch I got free with 4 gallons of four star!

The descent became quite scary with creatures dropping from the jungle vegetation, strange animal noises and that whistling noise you hear on Daktari. And, of course, whilst all this commotion was going on I was supposed to be in the middle of a chuffing marathon-ish! In the end there was nothing to do but to get my head down and grit my teeth and, in the words of Moira Stewart "Carry on".

Once we reached the end of the descent we came alongside the river and followed it by the glow of our torches, eventually reaching the village of Srikola. I then did something I have never done in a race before - I stopped in a cafe for a cup of tea!! I mean it wasn't an ordinary cafe - it was a Sherpa cafe run by a nice Nippall-ese family; and it was no ordinary cup of tea - it was special tea! Well, at least it tasted special to me and I walloped a potful of the stuff down, together with a packet of biscuits. After half an hour I felt good enough not just to carry on - but strangely enough I felt good enough to run! So, we began the last four or five miles to the finish line - again, in complete darkness. I eventually ran across the finish line to be greeted by the Half Share and a couple of other competitors. I'd done it. I'd finished. And I did it in 13 hours 31 minutes.

Now put that in your bucket and smoke it Haille!!

The Half Share had had problems of her own on the descent. Her and her friend Jo had come across an even older man than Albert called Peter who was in obvious distress and the two women people managed to help the old man down - now how's that for being a Good Salamander?

But she'd done something even better than that for me - she had waiting for me, at the finish line, a bottle of coca cola and I have to say drinking that was one of the satisfying moments of my time in Indialand. An hour later, with a couple of tubes and a curry down my neck I was ready once more to face the challenge of this magnificent race.

Tomorrow would be a relatively easy day - the half marathon - and a golden opportunity for me to win my first stage.

Can you wait?

Keep on tapering.

Ron