First and foremost, thanks to all that sponsored me, i'm still collecting, and if you want to donate, it's easy, click DONATE NOW up there /\ **PLEASE READ ON - IT'S INTERESTING I PROMISE**

I'm alive!!!

My legs feel like they've been semi successfully removed by a deranged hacksaw weilding surgeon from the 18th century, it's a permanent pain, one that, so far, 6 co-codamol and 4 ibropufen have failed to contain.

Imagine John Wayne exiting the Blue Oyster bar, and you've got an uncannily accurate picture of my current range of movement.

Still, it was a great day. Standing at the start line some old bird dressed as a fairy gave us a good luck spell, brilliant I can't lose. I'm pretty nervous, but the starter gun goes and we're off, it's a bit weird, as you can't really run properly, and you're being continually put off by people barging past, I wanted to find Katie Price and slap her on the arse as I passed her in the first mile, but must have missed her.

The first 18 miles were fine, I felt good, I was banging in 9 minute miles for fun, I even had time to jump the barriers give my four mates who'd made the 3 hour journey a hug and kiss.

Then it went horribly wrong. All of a sudden I was struggling, nothing left, nothing. The wall huh? Yes, the wall, piece of s**t. I hit it. Wasn't convinced it was real, 'all in the mind, it's all in the mind' I kept telling myself, yet it's not. It's something that's only controllable by rigorous training, it's not mental, it's where your body has precisley fcuk all left to burn to create this thing we like to call energy. And the 17 miles 'big run' I managed in training, was not ideal preparation. Anyway there I was, walking like that tw*tty penguin from Happy Feet, only drunk, and slightly dazed.

At that point I came across the next MacMillan supporter point. 'Great' there's 20 odd people shouting, 'Come on' 'You can do it' - No I fc*king can't, i'm going to die. I felt terrible, i'm walking, I should be running, these people are here to support me for whatever reason, but more than likely due to a lost relative, and i'm walking, what a let down.

I was in tears, blubbing like a child. This was not what I had envisaged, I was supposed to be running, in my ears Chariots of fire would be ringing, and i'd be picking off runners one by one on the way to an emphatic finish.

At that point I saw the lucozade stand. The memory of s*it running down my leg was fresh, but, faced with the prospect of not actually finishing and having a skid mark running from my ar*e to my ankle it was a no brainer....I grabbed two bottles of their finest sugary s*ite and necked the first one. People were passing all the time, even those walking, I was that slow. I tried running again, nothing, I have no idea how long i'd walked for, felt like miles.

I then spotted the 24 mile marker. I could feel my legs again. Lucozade is a blo*dy wonder drink, it must have been laced with speed or something, as quick as my legs went, they were back, I was like Moses blo*dy Kiptanui all of a sudden, I kicked off, and was picking off the runners like no-body's business.

My wife and son had were in the grandstand, and I promised my son i'd sprint the Mall. I was true to my word, I may have been sh*t for the previous 26 miles, but my god was I fast on that last 385 yards, to the point where one guy said 'I though they Said Lel had pulled out' I was chuffed to bits, I was tearing past everyone, no-one came past me that last 385 yards, but then I was known for my sprinting. An epic finish by any standard.

The finish line. Hmmmm, was I pleased? Yes, I honestly didn't know if i'd complete it or not, so to get round was great. There's no-one there to congratulate you, no-one to pat you on the back and say well done, it's a total anti-climax, where were my fans?

A quick photo, and you're off, left, i'm walking (in agonising pain) down the remaining 1km of the Mall, it's like a scene from Platoon, people on stretchers, some on oxygen, one guy is thrown into an ambulance and rushed off, I can only hope he's okay. I grab my kit bag, and head for the meeting point, I had no idea where I was supposed to meet everyone, I started crying again, god i'm a girl, but it's so emotional, and I had no-one.

I couldn't remember where we'd said to meet. I just sat, alone, watching runners with their familes, one guy was nice enough to ask me how I was, and lent me his mobile so I could contact my wife, in exchange I let him use the remainder of my Deep Freeze gel, he then proceeded to practically lather up his nuts with it, he offered it back, this was the point where I let him use that remainder.

The family arrived, hugs, cuddles, tears, friends arrived too, more tears, what a day, what fantastic people all around, even got interviewed by Jonathan Edwards!!! What a legend!!

This country has it's bad points, but there are a lot of decent people still out there, and it's worth focusing on that sometimes. There's no need for families to stand on the side of the road cheering, offering sweets, segmented oranges and drinks, oh, and the stupid tit who was offering gob-stoppers!

It's not easy.

A massive thank you to my brother in law, and to those who have sponsored me, and especially friends and family of all four of us who made the 3 hour journey to London to support us, you have no idea how much it means.

Please check out the team, who have all done fantastically well.

PS Time was 4:25.

http://www.justgiving.com/clintholmes

            http://www.justgiving.com/benlecompte

            http://www.justgiving.com/nathandrake

            http://www.justgiving.com/jodyharrison

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