The Duchy Marathon 9th March 08

I was relieved to note the absence of any wombles limbering up at the start of the Duchy Marathon at the Penventon Hotel, Redruth. This is a "proper" marathon, with the field largely consisting of dyed-in-the-wool club runners, who looked like they had completed about a million marathons between them. So, as the witching hour approached, my joy that I would not again be overtaken by Great Uncle Bulgaria was replaced by a new fear - that I would probably trail in last.

Even the collection of my first-ever "elite" race number (Number 89, by the way) did little to boost my confidence, as I realised that this was more a reflection of when I entered the race and the much smaller field, rather than of my athletic prowess!

Despite the obvious differences from running in London or New York, there are plenty of similarities too. It's still the same old 26.2 miles and it still feels like you're running around the dark side of the moon at about the 20-mile mark. But there is a much more intimate feel and the space to move around and run at your own pace without constantly dodging around clumps of giant tomatoes (London) or Frenchmen (New York).

The crowd interaction is totally different too but although the support is much more sparse, it seems more personal and spurs you on a little more because of this.

My parents live just a couple of minutes from Redruth, so my Dad was among the crowd, with the job of official race photographer and with it, his first experience of a digital camera. I caught a glimpse of him around the 7-mile mark and was wondering why he hadn't pulled out the camera ready to reel off shots, paparazzi-style. I was level with him by the time he saw me and even then it took a "Hello, Dad" for him to notice me! Perhaps I really should visit a little more often. Anyway, I politely declined his invitation to turn around and re-run the stretch of road for the benefit of the camera and I'm pleased to report that he made a great comeback and managed to get some good pictures later on - along with a smattering of random scenery, traffic cone and road shots. Thanks, Dad!

Another positive of a smaller field was the ease of finding a similarly-paced runner or two to make the run a little easier. I found the early miles running solo into the keen wind pretty hard work and was grateful to bump into a few runners who clearly knew their way around a marathon and seemed to be of a similar pace. There is certainly safety - or shelter, at least - in numbers.

I am particularly grateful to Number 46, who later became known as Nancy Hill of the mighty Mounts Bay Harriers. Nancy tolerated my company for most of the race which really did make the whole thing much, much easier. I realised that I am somewhat lacking in the social graces of marathon running and do find it difficult to talk and run at the same time - I guess that's a man thing and hopefully something I can work on for next time!

Somewhere during the proceedings, Nancy did make mention of the Tresco Marathon, which was certainly a new one on me. However, it seems that this will now be the next tick on my list....