One of my most favouritest out-and-back routes has a particularly nasty hill at the halfway point. There’s a gatepost at the top, and I’ve developed a triumphant little ritual of high-fiving it whenever I get there. I think this sort of behaviour is quite common among runners. We like to tap inanimate objects1 as a…

When I go for a run, there are two constants. Two absolute rules of the universe that simply cannot be avoided. One:  The more wonderful it is, the more likely I am to find new and inventive ways to bring it crashing down around me. Two: If my run brings me within 30ft of a…

Why do we run races? What sets them apart from a bog standard training run, enough to persuade us to part with our hard-earned cash and queue for twenty minutes to use a toilet that smells like a family of clowns died in it? Is it the medal? The goodie bag? The cheerful bonhomie and…

There’s a hill near where I live. My town sprawls under it, and you can see for miles. It’s lovely. I sometimes just stand there for a while and take in the view. Obviously, this is mostly so that I can get an early warning if there happens to be a Godzilla rampaging along the…

Do any of you know the shortest laps a marathon has ever been broken down into? I know that track marathons are a thing. But I’m thinking smaller. Also, what would be the risks of running a marathon around (for the sake of argument) a sports hall? Dizziness? Nosebleeds? Pirates? Oh god, please don’t let…

Whenever I retire a pair of running shoes, it’s with a considerable amount of reluctance. Also, they’re never properly retired, as I always find an excuse to keep them in my life. At any one time, I’ll have at least 6-7 pairs of no-longer-running running shoes dotted around the house, each with a specific purpose…