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Saturday 17th April 2004

Emma rang me just as I was coming out of Marks and Spencers with a big bag of buns for tonight (no, the check-out girl did not say "Somebody likes buns" - they have more class in M&S. That's what you're paying for).
"How you feeling?" asked Emma.
I then proceeded to laugh into the phone, slightly maniacally for about a minute. Emma had joined me within five seconds. Laughter said all there was to say.
I am nervous, I am excited, I am frightened, but most of all I am really looking forward to it. Not just to it being over - though that will be good - but to finally get to run 26.2 miles in the company of tens of thousands of other people (of which only a few thousand will be dressed as the 118 men). It's what all these months have been building up to. It's got to be a laugh and I refuse to believe it can be as painful as it was when I had to row that Thursday morning with a hangover.
Martin also rang me with a few wise words (it was actually on his say so that I was going out to buy buns to stuff my face with). I think if things get tough I will be able to draw on his powers to help me through. I will think of him and the rest of my crew and that should see me through. I will think of Anna shouting at me to be a tiger, just after I'd hit a woman in a face with an oar, I will think of Wheelie telling me to break the rubber band (that this time will be holding me to the spot at mile 20), I will think of little Pippin who I think I love the most of all, I will think of Toby the Gimli dwarf telling us off for rowing out of time (that should be good enough to get me through a couple of miles), I will think of Roger getting drunk and lairy and Jo looking beautiful in her civvies and Jonathan calmly steering me home. I will think of Tim telling me that I can give up now if I want, because I'm tired, or I can put in the effort that will get me home.
And when times get desperate I will even think of Emma, somewhere on the road (hopefully behind me or I will never live it down). I will think of her laughing at the ridiculousness of what we're both doing. I will think of her crying after the Cambridge men made fun of her. I will think of her determination to succeed. I admire that gutsy little imp so much; she hadn't ever run before this year and here she is about to embark on the hardest run that can be undertaken by anyone who isn't actually clinically insane. She is one spunky lady.
At least she will be by the time I've finished with her after the race.
Because I have collected the spunk of a hundred dogs and put it inside a champagne bottle and intend to spray her with the contents as she crosses the line. She will think it is champagne. But it isn't. It is dog spunk. But I don't get off on spraying dog spunk on exhausted women out of a champagne bottle and anyone who says I do is lying. As usual.
Why do they make up these lies?

I kind of hope that I do die tomorrow, so that that will be the last thing that I ever write on here. Let my entire writing career be judged by it. Let it be my epitaph. Carve that last paragraph upon my tomb stone. Out of context preferrably. It is literally what I would have wanted.

I can only apologise. I am in a giddy mood. I don't think I'm going to sleep too well tonight.

I suppose what I was saying before I got side-tracked into the world of canine gametes (that's got to be a phrase put into Google on a daily basis - welcome to my page canine gamete fans) is that it is helpful to have gone through a tough experience already this year. That thinking about the people I went through it with is going to be a great assistance. I am hopeful that in the coming months I will be able to look back in the same way at what I will achieve tomorrow.
Doing all these things isn't pointless (except maybe the CNPS thing); well, not any more pointless than doing anything else with your life. It's great to test your boundaries. I hope some of you will choose to do something that seems impossible and see how you get on. It's not the winning (though I am pretty sure I am going to win this), it's the trying.
Life is stupid, so be stupid right back at it and see who comes off looking like the chump.
I am so moved and encouraged by the messages of support that I have had from friends and strangers, and also amazed at the amount of money I have already raised. It is phenomenal.
But we can do better. This is a Marathon we're talking about!
So please, I beg you, if you have not given anything yet, please spare me a pound or two (don't be afraid to pledge a small amount. If all the people who read this and haven't given anything gave me a pound we'd have at least another £1000 on the total).
If you have sponsored me then why not see if you can spare a bit for Emma as well. Her page is at
Not too much mind. She mustn't beat me.
Doubtless my account of the day, including a full tally of 118 men, will appear here shortly. It's nearly over. Then I can get back to my normal life of killing fictional monsters and dating loads of strangers.
It may be humdrum, but it's who I am.

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