Well, the Marathon was this past Saturday. Oh boy.

The day had started so well - the weather was sunny, there was a light wind and the temperature warm, but comfortable. Richard (my running partner) and I registered in the morning without incident and had a light lunch to finish off 'carb-ing' up (I usually love pasta, but after several days of pasta pasta pasta, I don't think I can face it for a while).

Before we knew it, it was 30 minutes before the start and there were thousands of people - 17,425 to be exact - milling around getting ready. The breeze had picked up to a good wind (which, curiously, always seemed to be into our faces, no matter which direction we turned) and the temperature had increased to the mid 20's. Finally, all of the months, weeks and days of training and waiting were over - we were off, although it took us the best part of a week to actually cross the start line. From there, it was a slow crawl for the first mile or so as everyone got into a rhythm. That was about the high point for me.

I don't mind admitting that this run was, quite possibly, the hardest concentrated physical thing I have ever had to do. There is, however, a different point of view that Ylva, Richard's wife, mentioned when I was telling her this during dinner on Saturday night " but Jeremy, you've never given birth". Fair point, but then no-one's holding a stopwatch and counting the time when you're in labour either. And anyway how do men know for sure that this 'pain in labour' thing is all its supposed.....maybe I better not go there.

Back to the run. It was pretty well pure hell. Lots of marathon old-timers (or 'smug gits') had warned beforehand that I would hit 'the wall' at about 20 miles. No-one suggested I would hit it after only 8! By then, I knew I was in trouble - the kind of trouble Paula Radcliffe could not even begin to imagine - I had no energy in my legs at all and getting to the end was not looking anything like a guaranteed bet. It was a brutal realisation that I was as tired as I could ever remember being during a run and there was still another 18 miles to go. I can't really explain what the problem was - I've a couple of possible excuses (but nothing that you want to hear really). Ultimately, I'm putting it down to the fact that it was just a bad day. Anyway, from that point on, the actual time I might finish in went completely out of mind and, in the blind hope of finishing, the marathon became a series of 2 mile runs, which was the distance between the drinking stations. Each cup of raspberry flavoured sports drink was an achievement athough, I promise you, not from a yum-yum taste perspective.

The last half mile became a race to beat two guys both dressed up as the Pink Panther - I had passed them three hours before and, as they overtook me with the stadium nearly in sight, I decided I absolutely was not going to get beaten by a couple of cartoon characters. Summoning whatever energy was left, I managed to catch them. Or maybe it was because they stopped for photos and autographs? Anyhow, mission accomplished. Eat my dust, panther boys.

Finally (you're probably now thinking), the finish. I came nowhere near my target time of four hours, finishing in 4:39, but I did cross the tape ('cross the tape' being another phrase for clamboring over bodies collapsed past the line). What kept me going, when I could quite seriously have stopped several times, was the thought of having to give your donations back if I didn't get to the end. There can be no greater incentive than that of avoiding humiliation!

So there it is. Stockholm (or, as the poorly proof-read signs all around the course said "Stocholm" - and I did have time to notice that) Marathon 2006 over and done. The next one? Who knows what might happen.

If anyone would still like to make a donation, the web site at www.justgiving.com/jeremyslessor will be active for two more weeks. If you have filled in a sponsor form and not yet sent a cheque (made payable to Cancer Research UK), can you do that in the next day or two so I can send them all in?

Now, at the risk of sounding like a gushing and emotional Oscar winner, if you'll allow me, there are a few people I need to thank:

First, to all of you for your donations - the amount raised is staggering (as I write, it is just short of £6,900 or €10,000). I cannot begin to thank you for your generosity and support.

To Richard (my long-suffering training partner) - we've come a long way (and I am not just talking about the miles) since we rashly decided to do this run. It's been a hell of a lot of fun - thanks for your companionship and your encyclopaedic knowledge of everything about everything - I know more about the Tour di Italia than I ever thought possible.

To Neil and Doug - thanks to you two for gamely stepping in to help Richard and I along when the weather was awful, the mornings were grey or the miles were long.

To Peter Nyberg who acted as 'Our Man In Stockholm' and kindly provided hotel rooms for us and a very welcome bottle of champagne on Saturday evening.

To Jo, who I suspect has been woken every time I've got up at 5am to go for a run and has never complained - I love you and thank you for everything.

And finally, please just think for a moment about the people you may know who have suffered from Cancer and are not here any more. Then, look around you - the chances are that one in every three people that you are looking at right now will have to deal with Cancer at some point and (without getting too melodramatic) the money you have donated might just help save their lives. Thank you so much.

Jeremy