5hrs 36 mins. Yawn - predictably consistent.

A day of near perfect foot placement from Hugh. This would be fabulous if only it were always in the correct direction. Laughing initially at his gag as he turned right down the road south on exiting the car, we disconsolately let out some flares to alert him and he executed a neat 180 degree Guardsman's turn; continuing north. Such is his bonhomie I think he could have ended up again in Lisbon with a large grin. Possibly on his own in this regard but this is to his credit.

So this is the day we reached Spain. Our sports therapist is Spanish; a fact of which I've been painfully aware for the last few days, squealing like a hamster caught under a matador's heel (no decent analogy available, apologies) about the delights of tostada, boccadillos, Fernando Alonso, and real coffee. I googled famous naval victories of 1588 and left it at that.

We travelled tantalisingly just south of the Spanish/Portuguese border which runs along the middle of a large estuary - Rio Mino in Spain and Rio Minho in Portugal. A bit of imagination wouldn't go amiss - hardly the Channel and La Manche but never mind. Eventually we crossed into Spain, accompanied by more yelps from my left. The only dampener was that we really should have bought a case of white port before entering Espana. Schoolboy, utter schoolboy.

Our route then took us up to Baiona, a very attractive seaside town and we stayed in a fine hotel. The proprietor had befriended Hugh on Facebook, which was a mild concern but he turned out to be a decent chap. With a wife, more importantly. Here we met a local journalist; a sort of Hemingway figure who knew the King of Spain (and now Hugh) and who between drinking shots of 100 Piper whisky took down our hero's story. I don't speak Spanish and nor he English but we had the sort of convivial exchange that blokes do; gestures crossing the linguistic divide, in the mutual knowledge that we'd be talking bollocks even if we did understand each other. Still I hope there's a good yarn about Hugh in the local rag. The barmaids rushed to get photographed with H so this is all finally paying off in that respect.

I should say as a parting shot that we all liked Portugal very much. Dramatic coastline and great value fish and wine. From what we saw a real agrarian economy in many parts, small holdings, real if fragmented farming communities. A paucity of insight I agree but such is the lot of the constant traveller, a slave to 3 star hotels without seeing much else. I can see the sympathy ebbing.

The latest videos from day 9 are now live, see them here

Order restored: marathon in 5hrs 38mins.

A good day today. Hugh ran the vast majority, which is highly encouraging. Samia seems to have worked her magic with some strapping (the mysterious pink stuff) which reduces the stress of his damaged muscle. Hugh was relieved that he got in before dark. Yesterday there was little time to relax in the evening as we got in late and there were the customary ice bath, massage then dinner. I did not allow this to disturb my merry journey round Portugal's wine regions opting for a decent Douro which Samia also enjoyed.

In fact this jaunt has afforded the support team many an opportunity to find a random bar along the route. Often there is a straight bit of road which keeps Hugh busy for a half hour or so and we'll sniff out an opportunity. Generally opposite a church with faded plastic chairs outside we find a typically non descript sort of place and sip espressos in the morning and white port/cerveza in the afternoons. There is always a local soak hunched over a drink peering at us biliously through watery eyes. Not recognizing kindred spirits of course. A startled barmaid is astonished to be serving someone not from her immediate family (the village) and outside in the recent, decent weather, we idle away the time until the cheery figure of Hugh hoves into view and off we go again.

Last night Hugh finished at the hick but oddly named Ipanema Bar on a dusty coastal road near Apulia. We explained our quest to the bartender and tried interviewing him. Unfortunately the fellow was starstruck so this snippet is on the floor of the editing suite. Hugh is a natural behind the lens and can little afford someone who quivers silently when questioned. Most of the bar scattered actually, settling in different parts of the bar minutes later like curious insects.

We distribute 50in50 leaflets (in Portuguese) to each hotel we go to and generally there is a positive response once the incredulity wears off. It can be hard work and we would not wish to be travelling salesmen. Great excitement about tomorrow though - Samia, as translator, has made her usual preparatory call and the hotelier informs us he has followed the progress of the expedition and has everything in place. This is more like it. We cross the border to Spain tomorrow. Must make sure Hugh has his passport in his shorts.

10 down; a piffling 40 left. Marathon in 6 hrs 58 mins

We call him 20 Per Cent. A step up from '50 Pence' or whatever that chap with the chains is called. Both marvellous at wrapping anyway. And yes, I'm curling my toes too.

Never mind all that. We set off from Leca da Palmeria this morning, north west of Porto. Sophie, Hugh's wife, guided us there and Freddie, his son gave some sage athletic advice to the old man. The start was another beach road with a raised boardwalk which was great for Hugh to run on for the first few miles. A necessarily tentative start to the day, testing the thigh injury and various different strapping scenarios were tried to try and take the pressure of the damaged muscle. So it was a run & walk scenario. My Achilles tendon is still bad so I couldn't join him for more than a few miles. Relief for him I should think, but only for a brief period methinks.

Most of the roads here are cobbled which is satisfying to drive over (in the same way popping bubble wrap is) but not good for running on with a dodgy leg. So Hugh walked on. You would think this gives the support team a lot of time to lounge around. Unfortunately not - lots of twists and turns in the roads means waiting for Hugh, giving directions with the walkie-talkie. H flatly refuses to use the gps, viewing the device and its pointy arrow with the same suspicion as I do an electric salt cellar - something gauche, electronic and bound to catch me out. So Samia and I sit and wait, gadgets fizzing cleverly everywhere, talking him in with something Fisher Price should have sponsored.

To be fair Hugh is not entirely spatially unaware. He now understands the basics of navigating by the sun. In the morning it is to his right (the east), the ocean at his left, as he walks north, cosily sandwiched in the middle. So far, so good. At luncheon the sun will have sauntered to the south to warm his back (we have had 4 days of lovely weather now, thankfully). By evening Mr Sun will be waving goodnight getting ready for bed tucked up beyond the sea to Hugh's left, giving me a splendid view - from the bar - of H's triumphant finish with a rosy glow on the ocean. Pretty technical all that, so I hope you're with me. Anyway, generally this works well. Just the nasty roads in between that can confuse matters. With his walking though, he's really putting in the hours and the sun is snoring contentedly before he finishes, poor chap. Hence I'm scratching my head working out how to introduce Mr Moon into the scenario.

Hugh's putting in a hell of an effort actually. Tonight it was almost 20.00 before he finished, needing a head torch for the first time. He'll be back running soon but these are the days that count - long slogs we didn't want but for which he is prepared. In the meantime I'm knackered too so I'm off and even Mr Moon has got his nightcap on, since you ask.

The latest videos from day 9 are now live, see them here

Marathon effort in 7hrs 13 mins

This was the longest day so far. Hugh's pulled muscle in his thigh prevented him from running so this was a tough day's walk. He had Jose, his wife Sophie's nephew to keep him company and the pair battled on for 8 hours in total before reaching Porto for a well earned glass or two of Taylors. I was out because of a bruised Achilles tendon and can't walk so will be for a day or so more. Hugh is frustrated as he would like to be running and I can empathise with that.

The day started with a quiet forest track stretching for miles from the coastal town of Furadouro. Hugh was only able to run the first couple of miles then had to walk the remainder. Having to pass through various towns on the increasingly built up approach to Porto one wants to be ticking off the miles jogging head down but this wasn't possible. Rounding the southern bank of the Douro estuary into the evening sun was a lovely approach to Porto with wide lanes for cyclists and runners; at least Hugh was able to experience this, albeit plodding along.

Samia and I had prepared for our arrival by stopping for an afternoon glass of white Port for the past few days. Our finish point was pre arranged at Taylors and Ann Margarite, head of PR was still gamely hanging on for us as we arrived at 19.30, a few hours after our originally planned time. Hugh reclined wearily in a Iarge armchair with a glass of port, clearly not for the first or last time; with a contented sigh. He looked utterly at home, if exhausted. The port house area is fascinating, lots of impressive buildings with tiny lanes separating famous names. Oh, to be a Symington.

This was a day where grinding it out mattered. No glory of fast times but for 50 days we expect tough times and we'll certainly get 'em.

See Hugh's latest video, now up on YouTube

Days 7 & 8 - Both marathons duly nailed.

You've been all waiting with baited breath for the latest but I can exclusively report that Hugh has now completed 8 marathons on the trot. Day 7 in 4:57 and day 8 in 5:45. Why the difference? Apart from more having to step over more road kill than usual today, Hugh had to cope with a muscle injury to the right quad. Don't all swoon; it's now covered fetchingly in pink medical tape.

We have been blessed with 2 days of clear skies, allowing us the luxury of thinking about sun cream in March but not much more than that as it's still 10 degrees. Still, we left Figueria da Foz on a slight route diversion to avoid a suspension bridge without any footpaths, navigating nervously out of town on the gps, finally gaining our bronze Duke of Edinburgh Award. Soon we were on another suspiciously long and straight road. I checked on the intergoogle and indeed the Romans had built holiday homes here in the mid 400s AD, mainly in Conimbrigia from AD 200-400 uninterestingly enough, until the Germans arrived with their beach towels in AD 468.

Quiet enough for us at any rate - straight forested roads and Hugh got up a real head of steam after 16 miles or so as I left him as usual to tuck into an early lunch. All successfully achieved and we ended up in the absurdly attractive resort of Costa Nova for the evening for an enormous seafood casserole, sadly not with the Cosa Nostra which would have rounded the image off nicely. No internet owing to a power cut in the town and a night off for everyone.

Today was another blue sky and we did our exercises, always a source of local interest, near the beach clapboard church in Praia de Mira. What a start to the day - beautiful sunshine; an old fellow removing his cap and bowing before the Madonna whilst we lurched crablike in the sand before a disappointed sports therapist. We quietly got on with it and ticked off the miles of the morning's half marathon. Soon after, I left Hugh to crack on and noticed how his running technique had come on; far less the knee high 'morning vicar' look but more the relaxed lope of the long distance runner. An efficient, but somehow sad, metamorphosis. He did step in a pot hole for a bit of crowd excitement but all is fundamentally well.

For anyone easily statistically stimulated he covered 183.4 miles in the last week. That's an almost appalling distance to contemplate yet he intends doing so for the next 6 weeks plus today's successfully completed jog. More messages of support please and remember, this is for Marie Curie if you would be so kind as to donate. Thanks for all your support so far; it is great to hear of the level of interest in this venture. Also, anyone interested in running with us at any point, please let us know.