A Sharp piece of Yorkshire eccentricity

To avoid detaining you too long, I didn't mention in my last blog that I'd just returned from the dentist in Leeds after having a tooth pulled.

These are never the most pleasurable of occasions but, moments before climbing into the scary chair, I did have time for a grin.

I was waiting in the reception area with only the nice lady behind the counter for company when the door swung open and in walked a family of husband, wife and two boys in their early teens.

"Sharp's the name," announced the father of the party before they all sat down around me complete with nervous smiles.

I couldn't resist. "So, do you all have an appointment?" I asked, well aware that the answer was none of my business.

"We do indeed," announced a very pleasant Mr S, "I reckon they're bound to give us a discount one day if we all come together."

"So it's a regular thing, then?" I continued.

"It is," he replied. "Every six months. Then we all go out for a Chinese to treat ourselves." The other three Sharps nodded and smiled in confirmation.

"So, who gets to go first?" I enquired. We were getting on famously by now.

"Me," boomed the father. "I'm the most scared so I insist on going first." Again, the rest of the clan nodded and smiled.

"Mr White, you can go up now," said the receptionist. Suddenly reality returned as the reason for my visit clunked me between the eyes (well, yanked me by the tooth to be completely accurate) and I was off.

Twenty minutes later I walked back down to reception, with blood on my lips and my mouth stuffed full of gauze. As I paid, I looked across up at the Sharps.

The smiles had gone, although hopefully not for long.

Sometimes you just have to grin and bear it

A huge thanks to Gillian Haworth and Debbie Leigh for the piece in today's Yorkshire Evening Post which, if you haven't seen it, can be accessed at: http://www.yorkshireeveningpost.co.uk/news/Leeds-man39s-marathon-effort-to.3810389.jp

The story in the hard copy was accompanied by the same pic of Sebastian and I you see on this site.

However, last Wednesday I wrote that something funny had happened to me. Well it certainly did that afternoon when I went to the Leeds General Infirmary to meet Sharon Cheng and her collegues at the Children's Heart Surgery Fund (CHSF).

My good friend Gillian, the news editor, had very kindly booked a photographer just couple of hours earlier. Unfortunately, given the short notice, I turned up in a suit having come straight from work. When the photographer arrived he took one look at me and said hopefully, "I take it you've brought your running stuff." No was clearly the answer which meant we had to improvise.

To cut a long story short, I ended up swapping my shirt and tie for a CHSF Katie Bear tee shirt. And, to hide my suit trousers and black shiny shoes, was forced to climb inside a five-foot high greeting card and then duck out from the side in a "peek-a-boo" style every time the camera was pointed. In a second set of pics, Sharon joined the fray to hold my shoulders lovingly and give the impression I was being much more heroic in doing the marathon than I actually am. Throughout this 15 minute pantomime - which was going on in one of the main hospital corridors - we kept having to hold our poses to allow what seemed like countless perplexed visitors and patients (some of them looking none too well) to pass by.

I remember at the time recalling that episode of The Office in which David Brent dresses up in an ostrich outfit for a particularly cringeworthy photoshoot before being told by the snapper that he probably couldn't use the pictures anyway. And so it proved in our case too - through no fault of the YEP photographer, I hasten to add.

Before he left, I asked him to use my camera to take a simple pic of Sharon and I standing beside the card and you can see it above (as well as my suit trousers and shiny shoes).

On a slightly more serious note, it was obviously a great privilege to visit the CHSF. Sharon and her team do a magnificent job and, by sponsoring me, you can help them to do a lot more.

The Edge was as big as a hedge

Seven weeks to go and what started as Sunday Bloody Sunday is now ending as a little more of Beautiful Day after the trip to see U2 3D.

After a seven mile run in reasonable enough weather yesterday morning, I began my scheduled 15 mile trek at 10am today in the middle of a huge downpour. And although it settled down a bit after about three quarters of an hour, the damage had been done - I was drenched through and my trusty, cheesy iPod had drowned. Dead as a Dodo. It also meant I had to spend the next 100 minutes running in silence, making the training even more dull than normal (and, as you might guess, it's normally very dull indeed).

Also, when I got home, I took off my sweatshirt to discover blood stains all down my tee shirt after (get this) cutting my nipple (nice). People keep telling me to slap on the Vaseline to protect against this sort of thing and I did but obviously not enough. Next time I'll know better.

Anyway, quick steep in the bath and then off to the National Media Museum to see Bono and the boys. Very entertaining and, in terms of scale, The Edge was as big as a hedge - even his little woolly hat was enormous from where I was sitting.

The glasses they gave us all to wear - that's Vanessa and me in ours up above - made us all feel like Bono himself which was a nice (though admittedly not deliberate) touch. Well worth a visit if you get the chance.

Big Bono in Bradford

Just home from work and pondering an hour run in the morning and a two and a half hour run on Sunday - aaarrrgggghhh!

As something a little different on Sunday afternoon though, Vanessa and I are off to the IMAX cinema in Bradford to see U2 3D.

If you haven't heard about this, it's basically a film made up of several shows from U2's 2006 Vertigo tour.

As the PR bumph proudly states, it is apparently the "first live-action movie to be shot, produced, and screened exclusively with digital 3D technology" (whatever that is).

However, much more exciting for me is the fact that you get to wear a great big pair of comedy glasses and to watch the film on a screen measuring 48 feet high (14.63m) by 65 feet (19.81m) wide.

Im assured there's no truth in the rumour that the huge screen is only necessary to get all of Bono's head in.

A funny thing happened to me today...

Yes, a funny thing did happen to me today but I can't tell you about it yet.

However the result is I'll probably raise some extra money for this whole Marathon thing and, plus, it was actually a laugh.

So, if you want to know what it was, keep your eyes on this site. And, while you're waiting, check below for details of how you can donate.

Go on.

A cold front (and back) beckons

I don't know what it's like where you live you but, in Pudsey, it's a little bit nippy.

-1 is what the latest weather report says but it feels much colder than that.

So, with football on the telly, I thought I'd delay tonight's 35 minute "speed session" until first thing in the morning when it'll be warmer. It's bound to be. Isn't it?

I've just checked the forecast. It'll be -3 when I'm due to go out.

Excellent news. I'm so happy.

Albert Steptoe, that's me that is

Eight weeks to go and it's starting to hurt now.

I ran somewhere between 15 and 16 miles this morning and it wasn't fun.

Despite having just three rather than the usual four sessions on the training schedule this week, I've started to feel incredibly tired and was really dreading the long "Sunday run."

But, you know, I got round and although I'm shuffling round the house like Albert Steptoe and my right running shoe is stained with blood after nicking my toe, we're getting there.

Most importantly, I've received another £146 in pledges over the last 24 hours so, again, there's no doubt that it's all going to be worth it.

This is definitely one of the hardest things I've ever done though.

To whine or to wine - that is the question

Hard week at work and a very hard long run to "look forward to" on Sunday - ugh! That's the downside.

On the upside, I've just arrived home to find a very nice cheque from some very nice people in Coleraine. And I've opened a bottle of wine.

So, on balance? Bring on the weekend!

Pasta joke

I remember hearing David Beckham say some years ago that the worst thing about being a Premier League footballer was having to eat pasta for breakfast.

He went on to explain that it only happened in advance of a lunchtime kick-off but, still, an interesting insight from someone not known for providing interesting insights.

I have never eaten pasta for breakfast but I have had it for tea a lot recently. Not that I like it but for a few more weeks I'm a "marathon runner" and that's what "we" are supposed to do. Oh, all right - Vanessa's been making me eat it against my will. Or so I had convinced myself.

But then, this evening, a funny thing happened. Vanessa's not around and on nights like this I get to call into Asda and choose my own tea (what an exciting life I lead).

So what did I choose? You can see where I'm going with this but I'll tell you anyway - yes, pasta. And not just one ready to eat job but two (it was buy one, get one half price but even so).

I'm going to have one now - chicken tagliatelle - and I'm sort of looking forward to it.

Something's happening to me and I don't know if I like it. Or do I? I'll chew it over and get back to you.

Time for tomorrow

A couple of Guinness, a drop of wine and now my physical aches are not so bad.

On the downside, I've just watched the last ever episode of The West Wing, probably my favourite TV programme of all time.

I was working long hours in the House of Commons when it first arrived on our screens in 1999 and, after watching one episode and loving it, decided to hold back to watch it in sequence when I had more time on my hands.

That point arrived about three years ago and, although the "more time" well quickly ran dry, I kept at it. 150-odd episodes and seven DVD boxsets later, it's now over.

If you're a fan of The West Wing, you'll know exactly what I'm going through. If you're not, you should be.

In the very last scene, Mrs Bartlet asked the now ex-President what he was thinking about. "Tomorrow," replied our hero.

It's now time for me to do the same - I've got work in the morning!

Pint of Black for White

Nine weeks to go now and today I ran 14 miles, the longest distance I've ever managed in my life.

It's also more than half the distance of the Marathon itself and I'm still in one piece - just - which must be a good sign.

I'd love to tell you how great I feel but, in truth, I feel dreadful and my right groin muscle is killing me. But, as soon as I finish this, I'm going to treat myself to a wee pint or two of Guinness so expect my spirits to rise.

As I said in my last post, I've been away for a few days - up in North Yorkshire for Vanessa's birthday - and the break has allowed me to reflect back on the last couple of weeks since the fundraising began for real.

I can believe we're almost up to £1,500 and, although I hate to tempt fate, my target now is to double it. Fingers crossed.

Right, it's Guinness Time...

Oh baby

It's been a good 24 hours.

Since yesterday afternoon, several very good friends have added around £800 to my appeal fund - taking the current total to more than £1,400. It's incredible.

Also, last night my sister Gwen - Sebastian's mum - called to say The Chronicle back in Coleraine had run the story of me doing the Marathon on the front page, complete with full details of how people can donate. For this I am eternally grateful to Chronicle editor John Fillis - a top man. If you have logged on to this site after reading the Chronicle story, I hope you too will send me a few pennies.

And then, at lunchtime today, my wife Vanessa and I went to the Leeds General Infirmary for the 20-week scan of our first baby, due at the end of June. Unsurprisingly, that was fairly incredible too - have a look at the pic and decide for yourself. (I'm assured it IS a baby - really - and that its head's on the right).

Reality will kick back in again in a few minutes when I go out for another training run. However, given the support I am receiving and the amount of money coming in, it doesn't seem such a big effort.

And once the Marathon is run and the cash handed over to the charities, I can turn my attention to impending fatherhood - an even scarier proposition.

PS I'm heading away tomorrow for a few days but will be back on Sunday in time for a two-hour run. I'll check in again here after that - if I can get up the stairs.

You'll never beat Big Davy

What a great night for the Bannsiders!

Tonight I had the surreal experience of sitting in my living room in Pudsey watching Coleraine FC make their live Sky Sports debut against Newry City. And I wasn't alone, Vanessa and I having invited our neighbours Jo and Mark over to share the moment - and pies at half-time.

The Coleraine players battled as if their lives depended on it. Marty Hunter and Darren Cassidy were terrific, but star of the show was the old man, Davy O'Hare, in goal. Gerry Armstrong said he'd had the game of his life but, like other Coleraine fans, I've seen Big Davy play that well many times before.

The only downside of the evening was the commentator suggesting that the idiot who invaded the pitch was a Coleraine supporter - he wasn't and clearly came over the fence from the Newry end.

But other than that, it was perfect night for the great people now in charge of a still great club.

Well done to everyone at The Showgrounds - you've made one exiled Coleraine fan very proud (and very nostalgic)!

Oh, and yes - I was wearing my Coleraine shirt.

Chocolate eases the pain

Not long back from a 12-mile run and I'm a hurting more than a bit.

If you don't know how this London Marathon training caboodle works, basically the organisers send you a magazine which includes three suggested training schedules - one for good runners, one for people who aren't necessarily good but committed and one for those who just want to get round. Each demands that you go out 3-5 times a week and so far my training has jumped between the latter two schedules depending on what's on the telly.

To be fair, there isn't actually a huge amount of difference between them with the main similarity being the "long run" on a Sunday. Last weekend I had to run for 80-90 minutes; this morning it was for 90-100. As it turned, I ran for 103 minutes or three laps of a four-mile course.

Apart from the pain and the funny looks you get from passers-by - I'm not what anyone would regard as a "natural" distance runner - the worst thing about the long runs is the boredom. Thank goodness for my iPod and its 800-odd cheesy tunes.

But when it's over you do feel good about what you've done. And then you've got a great excuse for eating chocolate, LOTS of chocolate...

PS Following events at Twickenham, perhaps my comments about the Irish rugby team were a little hasty - at least we won (ahem)

Rubbish Ireland!

Just finished watching Ireland limp past Italy in the Six Nations rugby.

From a parochial viewpoint, I was delighted that fellow Coleraine man Andrew Trimble (pictured) had a good game. But he was one of the few.

Time for Ireland coach Eddie O'Sullivan to go? Without question. Although he won't.