Since I was a little boy I have wanted to run the London Marathon. I remember watching it on the telly and being mesmerised for hours by all these nutters running a seemingly impossible distance. I always told myself that when I grew up I would give it a go (though I wouldn’t dress up as a banana or a hedgehog).

During my teens and twenties I seemed to forget my crazy marathon dream as a lifestyle of no exercise, bad food and too much booze prevailed. Hey – don’t judge me! I was young, carefree and living the dream. Time though caught up with me and with the advent of my early thirties came a beer belly. Thus I decided it was time to get fit and to make a few changes.

I now drink less and I eat better food (my missus’ even gets me to have the odd vegetable). Perhaps more importantly though I have discovered running. Well that’s a lie, someone discovered it before me but what I mean is that I have taken it up! I am a bit rubbish at most sports but I reckon anyone can run (obviously you need legs). And it’s true that the first few times I took to the streets I nearly chucked up my whole body.

Practice though may not make perfect but it does help. And before I knew it was running the odd 10k. And I even have run a couple of half marathons that have nearly killed me. In the back of my mind though I realise I hadn’t done the real thing... was it now time to run 26.2 miles and to run the London Marathon?

Now let me stop there for a minute. I bet you are reading this saying something like “I know Marc Ollington is a top writer for The Gooner but what the gubbins has his running got to do with Arsenal? I have come on this site to read how rubbish Arsenal are and how Theo Walcott is the anti-christ.” Well, I shall explain dear reader. All you need to do is to read on a little and hopefully it will become clear.

Getting back on with my story I applied via the ballot to enter the aforementioned marathon but sadly I was one of hundreds of thousands not to make it. Was I cross or what? Happily the dudes at Marathon HQ sent me a marathon anorak to say sorry I hadn’t got in. This of course meant I could walk around in an anorak for a marathon I wasn’t allowed to run. Irony is perhaps lost on Virgin (the sponsors) who sent out the anoraks.

Anyway it was then I decided to run for a charity instead. I discovered that if you agreed to raise a certain amount of wonga you could get a guaranteed place. I spent ages researching who to run for on the interweb. Should I run for the little children of the world who have the AIDS or should I bust a gut for the blind grannies? I felt the weight of the world on my shoulder, I don’t mind telling you.

It was then I had a zap of lightning into the noggin when I saw that the Willow Foundation had some charity places. You probably don’t need me to tell you what Bob Wilson’s fine charity does (but for those of who don’t know go here) but I knew then it was who I wanted to run for. I would be competing for an ace charity with an Arsenal connection, but more importantly running for an organisation where I could genuinely make a difference to a lot of really ill people’s lives.

When they accepted me it was decided! I would commit myself to run this distance and to make at least £1500 for them. And that’s where this training diary comes in. To keep both me motivated and to promote The Willow Foundation I asked the Gooner Editor if I could do an irregular online diary of my training. He agreed and here it is for your delight and perusal.

As I said a half marathon is tough but running this bad boy would be rock hard. I really needed to take it seriously. It was for this reason I spent a whole £4.60 on Runners World magazine that had a training programme and everything. I am following this to the letter and my first two weeks of proper training are now done. I managed a good long run last night and I’m just about on track.

It hasn’t all been plain sailing though and things got tough last Sunday. As you may have seen or felt it’s been rather cold of late. My kind wife had bought me a hat and some running gloves for Christmas to keep me warm on the icy streets. When I went out on my Sunday jaunt this seemed to work a treat and I was lovely and snug. I was still wearing shorts though as my legs warm up quickly and I like to feel free and not constrained by tracksuit bottoms! I made an error though of big proportions. My shorts have that inside lining thing (like swimming trunks) which mean you don’t have to wear pants. This is good as it avoids a sweaty gusset area. I say this is good but perhaps it isn’t so great in sub zero temperatures.

About halfway through my hour jog my little chap started to ache. I realised he was very cold indeed. A few more minutes into the run every stride I took I could feel little Marc crying out in pain. He was not only very cold it was also chaffing against the lining. Now I knew how torture victims felt. Somehow via mind over matter and extreme mental toughness (I should have been in the marines) I got through it.

When I got home though it was red raw and was now the size of the smallest pyramid ever seen. I had to try and elongate it in the shower and to pull it back into shape. I couldn’t be too rough on it though due to the pain. It took a while but it eventually returned to ‘normal’ size. I was worried that I may have lost him forever so the relief was palpable. It has taught me a harsh lesson to wear pants in this weather regardless of sweaty undercrackers.

I’ll be back in a few weeks to let you know how my nether regions are and if training is still going well. If you want to sponsor my endeavours please do (www.justgiving.com/marc-ollington) and if you are running the London Marathon with a ballot place please consider running for The Willow Foundation. They really are a wonderful charity.

Until next time...