Pedestrian Power

You see things differently when you're on foot.

As a person who rarely ever walks or runs anywhere, I've not been subjected to the perils faced by everyday pedestrians.

But, during one of my 10k training runs this week, I had my first brush with a vehicle and I'm happy to say that I emerged victorious.

Now, don't get me wrong, I hardly went head-to-head with a ten-tonne truck; my challenge came in the shape of a matchbox-like Fiat Cinquecento - which, in all honesty, I probably weighed more than.

There I was, jogging along happily to the angelic sounds of Mariah Carey, when I spotted my nemesis reversing up a driveway just a short distance away. "It's my right of way," I told myself. "The pathway runs across the driveway, he has to stop for me."

I pictured a scene from that awful '90s TV show, Gladiators. This was my Eliminator - a test of speed, skill and endurance. I switched tracks on my Ipod to Survivor's 'Eye of the tiger' and prepared for the task in hand.

I put my foot down and made for the finish line. As I got to the edge of the driveway the Fiat slammed on the brakes and admitted defeat. The smell of victory was a sweet one.

OK, so maybe I'm being a bit dramatic. If you had witnessed this event, it would have looked much like slow motion.

But you do see things differently when you get out of the car. That's one thing I have learned in my first week of training.

And as for the training itself? Well, I'd always considered myself to be relatively fit, but 10k is a long, long way.

I'm up to about four miles, which is probably double what I run in 90 minutes of football on a Saturday afternoon.

I do, however, need to address one problem; my Ipod earplugs keep falling out when I run...

A difficult start

I look stupid when I run.

Please, don't laugh. I am actually being serious.

Last night, my obsessiveness even forced me into pressganging my housemate into videoing me jogging in the garden.

"Do I look stupid mate? Or even funny, do I look funny?" I asked.

"Everyone looks a bit funny when they run. Don't worry about it," he replied.

Following a fit of giggles, he observed that I looked, in his words, 'almost chicken-like'.

Working on my stride before the Derby 10k in April is certainly a long-term aim for the coming weeks.

So, I'm all signed up for the 10k. I'm not sure why to be honest, because anyone that knows me will vouch for the fact that I utterly detest running.

Football mates joke that I run in ten yard squares and that having me on the team is similar to playing with one less man. I won't argue with them. I wasn't made to run.

Saying that though, I signed up for the Derby 10k almost without thought. "Yeah, I'll do it," I told workmates. "No problem at all. Looking forward to it."

In truth, I think I kind of liked the idea of being able to tell people I had 'done' the 10k. It never really crossed my mind that I would actually have to run it.

My passive words, which had pretty much signed me to a legally binding contract, came just before Christmas. Now, with just eight weeks to go until the big day, the sheer mention of the words '10k' makes me shudder.

I sat at my desk on Wednesday and collected my thoughts. If I don't get into some sort of training, my 10k would soon become nothing more than a breathless embarrassment.

So last night, almost five weeks behind my water-drinking, salad-eating colleagues, I thought it wise to take my first jog since an overindulgent festive period.

It was hardly an inspiring outing. Jogging through Oakwood, I completed two miles in one direction and seriously contemplated getting a taxi back.

Weighing in at just short of 15-and-a-half stone, if I was going to do this, changes would have to be made. Pizza is no longer my friend. The coming weeks are going to be difficult...