A good day today, 4hrs 57mins

Hugh and the team have been in touch, there has been a power cut in the town they are staying in this evening and so, unfortunately, they are unable to post a blog today.

Hugh has asked me to let you all know that he and the team are in good spirits with 7 marathons completed!

Power permitting blogs will be back up and running tomorrow with a new video.

For anyone that missed it I have posted one of day 5's videos, enjoy.

See where Hugh's been running today

Six of the best for Hugh now; today's marathon completed in 4:51

A testing day.

Hugh and I found it difficult to get into a rhythm this morning. He has to deal with a muscular injury in his left leg which is a constant concern as he has previously had shin splints in this leg. Normally one wouldn't even run. By contrast I had a left knee niggle and the beginnings of an achilles tendon problem in my right leg - injuries I've not had before. Consequently we had our individual concerns during the 14 miles along the forest and coastal track.

Watching him toil on in the rain later as the drops bounced ever higher from the road and the temperature fell, it struck me how very difficult this challenge is. He has to get up every day, irrespective of the weather, how he feels, what injuries he has - and run on. Not a day off in 50. Again by contrast, my day job is to help in on the 'front nine', keep him company for the first 13 miles or 18 if I run an extra hour and break the back of the run - in theory he then has the pressure off and can enjoy the afternoon.

Sounds easy? It isn't. I took my bundle of concerns into a warm car and had lunch. He ate his quickly, iced a bad leg, thanked Samia and me and ran on; always a smile and a wave whenever we subsequently stopped and checked on him. He simply does not have the option to ignore the allotted 26.2 miles. Managing injury on top of this adds to the pressure. Samia and I are here for him but only he can finish this. He is a tough character and maintaining a great attitude and self belief through it.

On this note the messages of support for him and the team are fantastic - we have great camaraderie here but other people's interest has a very positive effect so sincere thanks from Hugh and us all for this.

So here we are sitting in a hotel in saturated Figueira de Foz. It could be a lovely port but difficult to tell as it's a bit like a Cornish summer holiday. We're halfway through our Portuguese travels and what we have seen is rather beautiful and wild. I have relied on the locally recommended wine to tell me which region we're in (Estremadura a couple of nights ago) but they didn't catch me out with Vinho Verde last night. I know my white wine. We have dined primarily on fish which is pretty good; the meat is dreadful and consists of pork irrespective of what one orders; my medium rare steak was reminiscent of something Timpsons repaired for me last month. Still, we put up with such trifles for the great quest.

Inevitably, more tomorrow.

The 5th marathon - in 5 hours

Hugh is 10% of the way there. High fives all round then we shuffle about looking a bit embarrassed as we're English, or anglicised in the case of the Welshman.

The hottest day so far and some large hills to start with. A bit thick of me to include these in the route as I would have to run them but you can't avoid them in this part of the world and we shall see many more. Starting again at the beach in Foz D'Arelho we leant into the slope and up we went for a couple of miles, crampons at the ready. This was subsequently a day of long straight roads which sound dull but are great for running - relatively safe (even Portuguese drivers will concentrate long enough to see and hopefully avoid you) and allow one to plod along without checking the GPS every few minutes. Anyway, nodding gravely at a 150km to 1cm scale with a massive arrow telling me I will shortly be in the mid Atlantic is of limited help. Having said that I got Hugh and myself out of a tight spot behind a fish market and back on to the main road earlier, having worked out how to use the scale. I sense your derision but it's a start.

Straights road then, for up to 10km at a time. Perhaps the Romans were here? I shall consult the great historian Wikipedius and let you know. I left Hugh at 18 miles again and I think we both felt the old chassis is starting to take a few knocks. Mine feels like an Indian government bus I travelled on last year. Still we'll haul ourselves out once again tomorrow, having arrived at Sao Pedro de Moel, again on the coast, this evening. Hugh is doing well and his only injury is a muscle swelling in the left lower leg; painful but not incapacitating. Samia looks after him (and me) well and is very much of the preventative mindset - which is what we need as he will not have time to recover from serious injury. He is running the vast majority of this - was expecting to walk more but finds the rhythm of running easier. This is clearly a good sign.

Hugh's 4th run now up on Google Maps

4th marathon in 4 hrs 58 mins. By this stage he's really not fluking it.

The day started as ever with exercises, necessary to mitigate any chance of injury. Samia decreed we perform these in the reception of our hotel which conveniently had a mirrored wall. We lunged, squatted and walked on tip toes and heels, watching ourselves doing so, an unnerving experience. Feeling the need to explain we told the manager about it all and he said 'only the crazy make history'. Well, perhaps. I made a note of his name; Jorges Chagas; mispronounced the surname with a 'Sh' and his eye twitched violently. Time to leave, trotting off with all the dignity we could muster after our less than balletic display in the foyer.

We can now empathise with comedians, forced, at the genesis or twilight of their careers, to play a winter season at Blackpool pier. Every evening since Lisbon (three, admittedly), we have trudged into empty hotels by a windswept beach, disgorged the contents of our bags into musty rooms and made as merry as we can in the circumstances. There is something melancholy about the whole set up; rooms waiting to be filled, restaurants like morgues, and staff waiting to perform for a willing and appreciative, or heavily tipping public. We're not really what they're after; requests for free wifi, ice for the Hugh's baths and well stocked bar (for me). Muttering a barely passable 'obrigado' like someone shuffling off the latest boat of illegal immigrants we arrive and leave with equal anonymity; apart from Jorges who made us feel sprightly, if a little irked, with his interest.

Anyway, the day's run. This took in first the peninsular of Peniche; a bulbous, exposed promontory with deserted beach roads, and a ocean lit by the sun from the south east. Hugh and I trudged this contentedly for ten kilometres or so before moving onto the main road, still coastal. Passing surf shops, mainly closed but the more optimistic expectantly open, we moved into open country. Winter is being slowly forced out, vast spring onions and cabbages ready for harvest and the smell of wild garlic pervading the roadsides, with gnarled olive trees waiting to bear fruit in the fields. But I'm no Keats so let's crack on.

Hugh and I both find the variety essential; the odd town gives the roads purpose and travelling at this speed one really sees things. Approaching Serra d'El Rei; a pleasant white-washed and terracotta roofed town I could see the wind turbines lining the escarpment, the sort of giants Don Quixote would have charged on a reluctant Rocinante. OK, dehydration was clearly setting in and we stopped, me for the last time having done my job 'leading' the run at 18 miles whilst Hugh, after a lunch break, completed the end of the day's odyssey to end up in the pretty town of Caldas de Raina; our stop for the evening.

This was a day where we felt things tighten up, a routine come together and a knowledge of what Hugh should be doing, how far to push and a team working well. The weather helped too, a generally sunny day - a true 50/50 statistic - 2 days saturated, 2 with the sun on our backs.

< A footnote on the downloaded runs, should you look at these. The time (e.g. today 4.58) is Hugh's time on his feet. He also stops for up to an hour in total per day, in order to eat, drink and rest the legs in which lactic acid is continually building up. This gives a him a door to door of max 6hrs. It's essential he works out his 'on feet' mph hence the timing strategy; we're working on efficiency and how to keep this fellow together for 50 days. >

See Hugh's hatrick run on Google Maps

He has the hatrick - the third marathon in 4 hours 48 minutes. Stout fellow.

Cause for celebration? I think so, sipping a Sagres whilst blithely tapping away, and Hugh receives a massage from Samia - part of the evening ritual after the dreaded ice bath. We ripped up the proposed Non Drinking Pact for this jaunt but don't feel bad about it. It's not like we said we wouldn't attack someone in the mid 1930s, then did, thus plunging the world into conflict. No, and besides, Hugh is happy his support team drinks whilst he doesn't. So, Wales holds firm whilst Spain and England share a bottle of dark Portuguese red and we all chat nonsense and a few tactics over a good meal. Perhaps that's why the UN hasn't called.

Adverse weather conditions today, as Network Rail is wont to say as an excuse for virtually any delay; but it didn't stop our Hugh. Opting for a main road route strategy, we didn't get lost as he and I trotted out 17 miles or so in the morning. Samia was always there in support, stopping off in the trickier spots to make sure we didn't rely on our natural inability to navigate. I then stopped gallavanting and hopped in the car to monitor him on the remaining miles home.

There is something absurd and satisfying about jogging along an endless road in the pelting rain - a sort of truancy from life; deliberate dogged journeying through rural Portugal by the most basic of means. Intermittent blasts of spray from trucks that barely made room as they past us provided a frequent reminder to keep as far into the curb as possible. Little figures in fluorescent jackets act as a red rag to a bull to truck drivers.

No major hills today and Hugh arrived in Peniche in good time, having completed the first hotel to hotel run. His niggling injuries were quiet and he found it difficult not to push harder; the long road ahead though ensures he remains prudent. Samia provides sound technical advice whilst I threaten unpleasant route changes if he doesn't listen. All in all, a confidence boosting day in awful conditions.