Official Brighton Marathon - 3hrs 47mins. Very Important Plodder.

Hugh's first appearance at an organised marathon and what an effort. Bloody show off.

The day started with Hugh trying to explain to the staff in a pseudo French accent that he needed lait chaud milk for his porridge sachets. They informed him the Grand could supply a bowl of its own and we sat down remembering where we were. A cooked breakfast as well, the very fulcrum of civilisation. We met up with Tim and Tripod and with our camera crew we trooped out and got probably the only available taxi in Brighton to the start.

This is the first time I have entered a VIP tent as an invited guest. The main advantage of this is that there are nice loos with faux rosewood fittings and someone to take one's bags to the finish line, the main considerations you have on this sort of event. We did our usual dynamic stretching, and the gathered assortment of celebs and elite runners (only recognised Fat Boy Slim) looked on in bemusement as we lolloped and crabbed about the paddock before self consciously shuffling to a stop. We shrugged and then went past the army chaps, footballers, and elite runners to the start. Unwisely, we were in also in the elite start section, the Kenyans looking suspiciously at us so we walked a bit further back to avoid being stampeded when the gun went off.

I always find certain things odd at organised races- people in the main pack get all twitchy like cattle lining up in a pen about to be despatched . Lots of nervous peeing going on; accountants feeling the need to leg it over a fence and urinate on a tree next to the vicar''s wife when normally they'd blow a heart valve if the tin of boiled sweets was out of place on their dashboard. Hugh and I feel a sort of superiority or other-worldliness at least in regard to all the preening going on, being used to chucking on some shorts and plodding into a morning's run, relying on ourselves to get where we need to.

Lots of atmosphere here and Hugh and I ran for the first 18 miles together and he was still on very good form indeed. As agreed, he then legged it off, having discovered he now really likes competition with others as well as himself and wanted to post a good time. I locked my injuries in my little box of pain and came in a couple of minutes later, not too bad, also considering I had strapped my legs myself that morning, and both remained remarkably the right way round. Hugh appears above such things that trouble mere mortals though he confessed to being a bit tired having really pushed it for this one.

Afterwards in the VIP restaurant (yes, I am milking this), Hugh had a long chat with Steve Ovett who had spoken to him on Radio Sussex a month earlier. All good for the filming and there were also various other interviews, people kissing his hand, that sort of thing. A few Guinesses later we narrowly avoided being persuaded into going to Legends bar's Sunday pm drag queen show. Vince, our Social Secretary seemed insistent but this was not the place to drum up support for 50in50. Tripod took him away, protesting. A temporary escape as we'll all be back in London soon.

Reunited with Samia who had a well earned day off in Brighton yesterday, we are off to Casa Preece in Mayfield today where we hope to catch Hugh's son Freddie before his bedtime. Better get a wriggle on then.