The Nike Human Race

On Sunday I ran 10km.

I don’t know how I managed it but I did it.

About six weeks ago my housemate charitably entered me into the Human Race - 10km of sheer hell for the Lance Armstrong Foundation.

Its not that I’m not charity minded but my first answer was no. I’d rather donate the money than kill myself pretending to be a long-distance runner.

In truth I did it for my housemate. He had two decades in friendship in the bank and I didn’t want to let him down, so in exchange for some running shoes I reluctantly agreed.

As part of my strenuous training regime, which only began three weeks before the start of the race, I cut back to two cigarettes a day and had take-away only twice a week.

Also I thought it would be wise if I began to run.

So every day for the last three weeks (apart from the mornings when I couldn’t get out of bed) I went for a 2k run and by Sunday it was the furthest I had ever run without coughing up my insides.

But I ran around the streets of Wembley without stopping.

I didn’t care that old men, pregnant women and one-legged midgets all sprinted past me, I was intent on achieving something for men of my ilk.

So I dedicate my time of 73 minutes (and my Nike Run T-Shirt) to all other overweight, out of shape, nicotine addicted men roped into a cause they never wanted to be a part of.

If I can do it anyone can.

My race result (http://nikeplus.nike.com/nikeplus/humanrace/leaderboard.jsp) 166,000 out of 1.1m worldwide.