And my race number is...

"Hello, is that Shaun?"

"Yeah, it's Shaun here. Who is this?"

"Shaun it's Alyson from Sporting Futures. We've noticed you have not actually signed up for the 10k yet and was wondering when you were going to do so?"

This was part of a telephone conversation I had on Friday with Alyson from Sporting Futures.

The revelation that I was yet to sign up for the actual race was a cause for some embarrassment in the editorial department at the Evening Telegraph.

"Are you trying to wimp out Jeppo? You are, aren't you? You're not going to do it," came the cries from my already-signed-up gloating colleagues.

I had to take it the verbal beating. The truth is, I hadn't signed up because it had completely slipped my mind to do so.

But with only a few weeks left to race day I have been pushing my luck. As we speak, there are only a few hundred spaces left in what will be a 3,000 strong-race.

I will be signing up this week with the aid of the very helpful staff at Sporting Futures. To my embarrassment, they have joked about handing me the very final race number as punishment.

To my own credit, however, I have been working hard training. I have not ventured out to run the full 10k distance yet but I will do over the next week.

I will keep you posted as to how I do...

Me, my knee and 25 marshmallows

I need to get a grip.

I've not been worrying about the Derby 10k, but I think it's fair to say that I've had the odd little moan here and there.

My occasional ramblings were put into perspective a couple of weeks ago when I interviewed a chap who could be running the race with the equivalent of eight stone slung over his back.

After speaking to James Hubbard, I felt like a bit of a wally.

Here I am worrying about the odd blood blister from my sparkling new Nike runners while Mr Hubbard is weighing up the after-effects of running more than six miles in a pair of army boots.

And that's before he loads his rucksack with the equal weight of your average 11-year-old boy.

As an army Major, Mr Hubbard is naturally fit. He said he wants to push himself in the 10k to raise as much money as possible for Cancer Research UK - a charity close to his hear after losing his father to the disease.

I just hope he doesn't complete the city-wide course before I do.

My 'intense' training regime is coming together and it is leaving me more confident as the weeks progress.

I did suffer a minor setback last week through a footballing injury which, I have to admit, was entirely self-inflicted. During a game, I thrashed at the legs of a spritely young striker who was escaping from me with the ball.

After dusting himself down, he returned his gratitude by running his studs down my knee. This pretty much meant no running for a week but I'm pleased to report I can now be seen once again meandering through the streets of Oakwood in an effort to be anything close to prepared for April 20.


As I've mentioned before in previous posts, cutting down on some of my favourite food was going to be an essential part of my training. I think it was always going to be difficult and I regret to inform you that I succumbed to some very intense peer pressure just this weekend when I was invited, or rather forced, into taking part in a marshmallow eating contest.

The rules were simple - cram as many into your mouth as possible. I think the picture pretty much explains. Anyway, I racked up a respectable 25 and walked away with the honour of 'Marshmallow Champ' 2008.

I'm back on the wagon now and promise not to fall from it again. James Hubbard could well be carrying me in his rucksack if I continue with my ways and that's a lot more than eight stone to worry about.