“It’s a family fun day man, there’s kiddies running around. They can’t go jumping up and down on a love length.”

Brian Potter, Phoenix Nights

Monday 21st September – I wake up, hobble to make a coffee, have a shower, hobble to the Supermarket, then come back and start work.

I’ve convinced myself now that I’m truly fucked.

I have less than a week to go and my heel is tender when I walk, never mind run.

I’m fucked, and I’m thoroughly depressed about it.

However, it’s a proper first world problem, and I crack on.

I sit at my desk and keep rolling that tennis ball. Hoping for any sign of improvement.

By the evening it’s still sore and I can feel the hope fading.

Tuesday 22nd September – I’ve taken the day off today to pack and get some last minute stuff done about the house to make sure my wife and child don’t starve to death while I’m gone.

I have packed for every running eventuality. Hot, cold, wet, snow (not really) and my bag feels fuller and heavier than when I went to Menorca for the week.

The foot feels a tiny bit better. I think.

I’m hoping that the easier taper week will prove to be worth its weight in gold.

Tonight it’s a track session and I’m not doing a big warm up. I do a very slow mile warm up with everyone else.

So slow in fact, I’m the last one onto the track after it.

I’m moving down a group to slow it down even further.

I get into a lovely group and just sit off the back of them.

Tonight is Long Reps. So 4 laps at a fastest pace, 2 min rest, 3 laps, rest, 2 laps, rest, then 1.

My heel is hurting but I say nothing and avoid everyone, leaving as soon as the session is over. All in all I only do 4 miles tonight and my foot is sore.

I should be excited about heading to Warsaw tomorrow, but instead I’m feeling more and more like it’s going to be a wasted journey.

Wednesday 23rd September – I’m out the door early for my epic trains, planes, and more trains journey.

I’m slightly more chipper and philosophical today, despite my sore heel.

My wife gave me a pep talk and I’m also looking forward to going back to a city I love and work colleagues that I can’t wait to see again.

I’m like a shit Bilbo Baggins, off on his own on an adventure.

The journey couldn’t go better. The two Metro trains I need to get to the Airport are both on time.

I have a bit of a wait at Check In (my bag is far too big for hand luggage) and get through security quickly.

My flight is on time and I get to Schiphol Airport with tonnes of time to get my connection.

As some of my fellow country folk decided we were better off with ‘sovereignty’, I have to join the big queue of whinging gammons (who voted for this shit) and entitled Americans who are disgusted they can’t just go through the E-gates with the sensible EU people.

The gammon couple in front of me complain throughout the whole wait. Which, is only around 10-15 minutes – hardly some apocalyptic queue.

To make matters worse, I’ve become the inadvertent filling in a fuckwit sandwich.

Behind me, is an older American woman. Mistakenly thinking I’m either a fellow US citizen, or that I actually give a fuck, she asks me if ‘this is what it’s come to? Being treated like Aliens by people we liberated.’

As I’m polite, I tell her I’m British and this really isn’t that bad. We’ll be 10 minutes tops.

But she continues with this all the way through.

Meanwhile, when we get to the front (after only 10 minutes, fancy that?) Gammon couple are now arguing about which of the 6 booths will be quicker.

They pick one. But it’s going to slow. So they pick another one. I decide I’ve now had enough of their shite, so move to another booth – just as they decide they want to move to it.

I hear them huff and puff like I’ve just taken a shit on their front step or something.

Having changed queues and booths four times, they end up being seen after me rather than before me. Absolute morons.

These fuckers walk amongst us people.

Anyway, I get to my gate and catch my flight to Warsaw with no problems.

Once I land I have the companies Uber app and can order one.

Fuck that!

This little commie at heart is getting on the train. I’d done a bit of research and buy a ticket to the City Centre.

I hope on a Train through the Warsaw suburbs and am there 20 minutes later.

It’s just before 7pm when I get to my room and I have to get out for a run – easy 6.

It’s a little later than I wanted and a little darker than I expected, so I head to the Saxon Gardens that I know and run round that till I hit 6 miles.

I hate this run. I’m travel tired, it’s too dark, I’ve rushed to get out, my GPS is all over the place, and my foot hurts.

I’m get back after 8pm, eat a giant Pot Noodle I’d packed, then fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.

Thursday 24th September – No rest for the wicked as they say.

I’m up early and back out for my very final pre-Marathon run of an easy 4 miles.

Back to the Saxon Gardens, the heel is sore but I’m pushing through. At least we have some dawn light to make this a slightly nicer run.

When I finish, rather than celebrate getting through the 16 weeks, I feel nothing. All I can think about is my heel and how it’s going to be unable to survive 26 miles on Sunday.

If you’re shouting ‘just fucking get over it’ at me right now then I completely agree with you.

I get back, shower, get changed, have breakfast, then head off to the Office.

The reason I went out early is because I have a busy day and evening.

The office is busy today as everyone is in. The reason for that is that there is a Gala/Party tonight celebrating 10 years of the office being open.

I had no idea of that before planning this trip. It’s a party and a free bar and has ‘Danger’ written all over it, especially 3 days before a Marathon.

It’s great to catch up with everyone during the day, and at lunch I’m taken out for some carb loading of Pasta in Soup and Ukrainian (no longer Russian for obvious reasons) Dumplings.

In the evening I decide to show my face for the speeches, have just a couple of drinks, target all the protein at the buffet, and try to keep a low profile.

I’m glad to report that it was mission accomplished on all the above. I had a Sex On the Beach from the free cocktail bar and it was measured out correctly and very nice.

I decide to have one more before leaving and, this time, the barmaid doesn’t measure it. Instead, she hoys about half a bottle of vodka in it.

I take one sip and it’s like petrol.

By the time I’ve finished it, I feel quite tipsy. A sign that I really do need to head off. By 10:30pm, I’m back at the hotel.

I find out later that the party went on till 4am.

Friday 25th September – As busy as the office was yesterday, today it’s dead.

The 4am finish means the vast majority of the office are working from home.

A couple of the other Brits who have come across are in, but they leave for their flights in the afternoon.

Today I decided to abandon my work casual trainers and just wear my old Brooks. They are much better support for my heel, and there isn’t anyone here that cares.

The heel feels a little better today. I keep rolling it and just being careful in general.

After work, I head to the Expo to pick my number up. It’s really easy to do, flash my QR Code, show my Passport.

I get my pack and refuse to even look at the T-shirt. When I’m done, I’ll wear it. For now though, I don’t want to jinx anything by even setting eyes on it.

I then have a quiet evening in my room eating stuff I picked up from the Supermarket at lunch time. My wife was worried that when I was out here I wouldn’t eat enough. So far, all I’ve done is stuffed my face.

Saturday 26th September – I’m up early for breakfast. The heel is definitely on the mend and I’m feeling a lot less down about it.

I do feel like I might be getting a cold though. To be honest, after 2 trains, 2 planes, a hotel and an office, this doesn’t shock me.

After breakfast I head out to get some lunch for today and some stuff for tomorrow for when I get back.

Today would have been perfect weather to run. It’s rained first thing and it’s going to be overcast the rest of the day. Tomorrow is going to be sunny and warm, which is a ball ache.

I take a short wander in the morning back to the Expo and the local Mall. Just to stretch the legs and also give the maid space to clean my room.

The heel is feeling a bit better again. I still think it will let me know it isn’t happy tomorrow, but at least the pain has subsided and it’s much more comfortable to walk on.

As an aside, the right foot that was giving me sleepless nights two for the last two weeks is now feeling like it’s back to normal. Go fucking figure.

I spend the afternoon in my room. I sort and place out all of my gear for tomorrow. Then I eat my lunch and put my feet up for the rest of the afternoon.

I am definitely getting a cold though. I’m hoping it’s just the hotel air con, so I turn it off.

I meet one of my old work colleagues, Axel, in the lobby at 4pm and we head off for some ‘eat-pasta-run-faster’ from a little Italians that’s a few blocks away.

It’s great to catch up with Axel, and we do a little walk afterwards. I can feel my heel again, so I say my goodbyes and head back.

When I get to the hotel, I have a real re-crash in confidence. My heel isn’t really that much better, I’ve got a cold, and it’s going to be warmer than I wanted tomorrow.

I feel like I’m having Marathon grenades hoyed at me.

I ring my wife and instantly feel much better about it. I think the down side of mixing this with work and coming out on my own is that I’ve underestimated just how important my families support is.

I’ve been alone with my thoughts with no-one close to spill them out to. Speaking to my wife chills me out and makes me feel much more positive. She’s great. That’s why I married her.

So I write this now, 9pm Polish time, ready to lay down and get as much sleep as possible.

What will be will be tomorrow.

But you know what? I’m going to have a good fucking crack at it.

Mood: Fucking come on!