Stu’s never been so frightened.

I’m running the London Marathon in April, which is alarmingly soon. 
I'm not a runner, but at the time of making this decision, thought myself reasonably fit for a man of my considerable age, and was bolstered by the thought that I'd run three marathons in my inconsiderable youth.
The first was in Glasgow in 1982; I'd arranged to meet some school pals at the start line, couldn't find them, and completed the 26 miles in a fruitless search. In 1983, having vaguely trained, I completed some circuits of Birmingham's spaghetti junction and crossed the line in 4 hours and 40 minutes. My most recent marathon, 40 years ago in Edinburgh in 1984, was a hungover fiasco; I'd been out of school for a year and was nurturing a strong liking for booze, was living in a one bedroomed flat with five other 'adults', a dog, and thirteen cats; I'd been to a party with my friend Richie the night before the run, slept in, and had had to run two miles to make the start on time. I was dressed in a pair of cut off denim shorts, and some trainers I'd found in a skip the night before. The reason they were in the skip became clear early in the race when one of the soles started flapping; it continued it's relentless clap to the finish line, where I sorely waited, not long, for Richie who was third last.
That should probably have signalled the end of my marathon journey, but no...
I was kindly invited to become a Lord's Taverner about five years ago, and have spent that time happily schmoozing generous donors at Lords cricket ground, and eating lovely lunches at fundraising events in lavish London hotels. It was time to do something difficult for this wonderful organisation which I'm honoured to be a small part of, and of which you can read more below.
And this really is difficult. My knees and hips ache, my legs are leaden, and I dread every next run. I'm in the 14th week of my training programme, and it gets only harder. The endorphins help, but not for long..
And so to you - I've deliberately waited until a low point, which I was sure would come, to ask for your generous indulgence. Please give as much as makes you happy, and if you're skint, or charitied out. then, please, a supportive text would be hugely appreciated..

Much love,

Stuart x