This had become one I wasn't really looking forward to, 10K is such a bind and I'm 15 years too old for it, 4 inches too short and 3 stones too heavy ... but I have paid my 6 squid so its off we go to Telford. Parking was nice and simple and its a cold day, so after a quick shifty through the sports pages in the Sunday rags, lets go and see whats going on.

I take a brisk walk over to the organisers hut to collect my number, its an hour before the race and there are already stick like athletic looking people standing in the queue for the toilets, jogging on the spot, sipping out of Hydrostatic Strontium-ade bottles, nervously looking around ... checking there watches, bless!

Upstairs and there are two little old ladies giving out the numbers for the race, they are the types you see at a tea stall on a village fete ... where everything looks just a tiny bit too inconvenient right now, me and my impossible to spell surname, it can get embarrassing, after searching through every number and asking for repeated reassurances that I had entered, it suddenly showed itself cunningly sandwiched between K & M with some other L's ... now how did it get there?

So out past the duck pond and a stroll to the start, off the top of my head, I knew Martin was up for this one, Kev and Derek will be somewhere - not sure who else, Text Derek ... "Are you here yet?" .... "Yes" .... "OK - Wherabouts" ... "At the start" .... "And me" ... I walk into kev an we have a five minute chat, mainly about me being cold, I can see Deka now, hood up, ruck sack on, pacing from left to right is he selling the big issue? Should Kev have left him on his own? I walk over ... does he recognise me ... after a few moments yes!! Then he gives me that broad knowing smile ... he knows this race!

We all take a stroll to the start, ye gods, its like the land of the giants for me, where did all these grown ups come from, I also have more fat in my ear lobe than this lot put together, Kev helps the situation enormously by leaning down to my height and explaining that he wasn't sure if he was 9 1/2 or 9 3/4 stone at the moment - that doesn't help a vertically challenged 13.5 stoner feel great ... Deka carries on a conversation with a bloke about the Chasewater 10K, the bloke is talking about some race that ran before the war in the chase and then melts off into the crowd - Dekka carries on - one wee later and I'm back - twice as many tall people and gulp - I can usually look around at a race and at least see one or two jolly fun runners that are "there for the crack" but no - ahead of me a sea of pristine sinew, muscle and bone - I must be mad, I am way out of my depth, physiologically I have beaten myself to a blubbery pulp .... too late to back out now.

There's an air horn and were off ... well they are, I'm so used to pushing up through the back, fighting for a place, but this lot have left me ... I hit my Garmin and then the stampede around me goes quiet, I can already see the front runners at the first bend as I approach the start line, this is mad ... I usually like to use the first two hundred yards to orientate myself, but I'm quickly heading to the very back, look at my Garmin, less than 1/4 mile, look over my shoulder and there are 4 runners!!! That's it!! No 3 - he is now on my shoulder and im 3rd from last ... can't seem to get into any sort of comfortable pace, shoulder back, shoulders slumped, head down ... no up, I look into the sky, run off the course and towards a fence, correct myself and then nudge back up to 4th last.

By half a mile, there are no packs just runners spread out as far as you can see, I would estimate that there were about 40 - 50 in all - but what a shock. Quick check at 3/4 mile and i'm not feeling too bad, lungs are OK - legs are fine, probably under selling myself, but I am seriously down the field, start to open my stride at the mile marker after a disgraceful 7:15 first mile and then start to quicken the pace, down to the first turn of the cone and i'm starting to feel more comfy, but only one runner taken - I see my first pack and put chase, coming up to mile two and im nearly on them, 6:07 - that's much better ... Mile three and I have taken a couple more runners and can see a pack, I also have to negotiate the start/finish, some dog walkers and a tight bend, lose time on the bend and already there are runners on me, my split is 19:21 - that's enough for me to get my head down - there feels like there is more in the tank - although I have already seen the real elite runners come past me, as its a 'there and back' - I would say they have over a mile on me by now.

Mile 4 and I am back on the straight for the cone which is a switchback, I'm trying to compose my posture and stretch for every step, mile 3 was about 6 minutes flat which is just too fast for me, but I can now see the next pack tantalising me, they are a hundred meters away - I see Kev Loudes shoot past me in the opposite direction, I bellow out encouragement - I'm sure he jumped!!

Round the cone one last time and im on the pack, but now starting to lose time again, I jostle my way through, someone catches my ankles - god knows who - but I manage to stay up as I flounder off the course, I now have it all to do again, I take a wider berth, mile 4 is 6:50, Mile 5 just goes on for ever, I'm not so much tired or fatigued, I have just reached a limit where my legs will only go in front of each other so fast ... I see the mile 6 marker in the distance, 6:41 for mile 5 and then the sprint in, no one to catch and no one to catch me ... my woeful start has left me way down the field - a smiling Derek at the end is a tonic for anyone - those boy band good looks could warm anyone into a sprint finish ... but its no good, Garmin says 38:54, the big clock says 39:01 - either way - I have all these super fit runners just patting me on the back as if I had just done the whole thing on a pogo stick balancing a chimp on my elbow!!

Regrets? Can't say I enjoyed this - felt like a small fish in a big pond - a really small field of elite runners really exposes the fact that I don't train anywhere near seriously enough - waddling my slack ass around and trying hard is OK - but this is a real race which was far more of a mental struggle than a physical one. I will probably do it again - on the proviso that I actually gave it a tad more respect.

Overall rating of the Telford 10K, not bad as a runners course, if you purely want to move your legs quickly on gently undulating ground then go for it, but several laps and switch backs mean you need to be in the mood and prepared. I was neither.

Saw the start of the later race and it was great to see so many Harriers at the front (Arthur was storming on the outside) - Should I have done the Elite race? - Too Bl**dy right I should !! What doesn't kill you you learn from apparently - its just given me another thing to become obsessive about - enjoy!