Despite being a rugby union man at heart, I've tried really hard to get into rugby league since moving to Yorkshire four a half years ago.
It was therefore a real privilege to be at Elland Road last night to see the Leeds Rhinos lift the world club championship after a 11-4 win over Melbourne Storm.
There's a great feel about a big rugby league game. It's a real family affair with mothers and daughters as common a sight as fathers and sons. Everyone seems to turn up ready to enjoy themselves, come what may, with the clubs also deserving great credit for the efforts they make in putting on additional entertainment before the game and at half-time.
And then there's the players. Unlike their footballing counterparts, there seems to be a complete absence of big shot egos and a real appreciation for the supporters who pay their wages - which are absolute peanuts in comparison to what the likes of John Terry and Wayne Rooney are accustomed. Most of them also tend to live in the local comunity, rather than in mock Tudor mansions far away from "ordinary" people.
Last night's game was a real battle of wills in horrible conditions and the Rhinos, led by their inspirational skipper Kevin Sinfield, deserved their win and the title of best rugby league club on the planet.
As a result, Rhinos fans went home happy. But even if their team hadn't triumphed, I reckon most of them would have done so anyway. That's the rugby league way.
On marathon matters, I was out for short so-called "speed" sessions both yesterday morning and again today. Tomorrow morning, as ever on a Sunday, I'm due to run for the longest time I've ever managed - in this case about two hours and 40 minutes. Needless to say I'm not looking forward to it. At all. But hey-ho!
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