The Qwer Old Fella's Marathon Method

5:30 a.m. - 160m[ish] jog - no good: hamstring is kaput. What's worse, I know (even without getting on the scales) that I'm putting on poundage. It's Jake's fault that I'm putting on weight: all his chat about ice cream sent me off on one. Every night I've been scoffing Ben&Jerry's caramel Chew Chew - I can't stop chewing the Chew Chew. Okay, so it's not Jake's fault. It's my weak will. Ho hum.

Not all bad news. I did a bit of an ACornesque workout this morning. I set out to test the leg and could feel it twinging like a curse word, from the off. Got back and sat on the sofa and thought, what shall I do? Go back to bed would've been the wise thing to do. But your old fella isn't so wise. Didn't do that. Went to the freezer to fetch some ice for the leg and nearly had a breakdown. Chew Chew everywhere I looked. Caramel taste filled my mouth. No one will know, I thought. Go on, get in there lad; wolf it down. One day isn't going to make a difference. 5:45 a.m. and my right hand's frozen to one of the many tubs of Chew Chew.

And then it happened. On each of my shoulders a little Bam appeared - one with horns and one with a halo.

'Go on,' Horny said. 'Get in there, you know you wanna, lad.'

'Don't do it,' Halo said. 'Do some strength work instead.'

This went on for a while. So, anyway, I sated my desire for Chew Chew and did some strength work - nothing too exciting: scooped ice cream from tub to mouth several times @ 2 second recovery. What a hero. Monster session. Bleeding from the eyes. Eyeballs out. One serious VO2 max blast.

Anyway, I think I'll be out for a couple of weeks with the old leg and then it'll be Christmas. The big test will be if I can stay off the booze and get back 'running' again. A nice tub of Chew Chew followed by a glass of merlot and a Marlboro Light sounds perfect right now.

I'll fight it. I must: I've set a goal of winning the 2013 Cork Marathon and then I mentioned something about a sub 2:20 aged 50. Why do I say and do these stupid things? Okay, I'll be good and stick to the comeback. No smokes. No booze. But there has to be one last tub of Chew Chew. Oh baby, Daddy's on his way to chew chew you. Toodles, lads...

5:30 a.m. - 3.5 mile jog. Managed to get round without pulling up in agony - result. Ran slowly. Like a warm down after a session of blistering 200's:  8x200m's in 25 secs with a 200 jog recovery; yeah, right - in your dreams, lad.

I'll need to keep it nice and slow for a while as it will take some time for the hamstring to heal.

But the big news is the weight. I haven't run since last week and I thought the timber was stacking on but it turns out that I've lost a pound. Holymolypololy. If you wanna shed the lard, don't run, but be sure and to eat Caramel Chew Chew. Bought a lesser known brand of ice cream today (thanks Jake) when I was out doing the weekly shop. Still caramel flavour - has to be caramel, nothing touches the taste of caramel. I'll have to wait and see if I burn some more blubber on the cheaper caramel ice cream...

5:30 a.m. - 3.5 mile jog. Nice and easy, again. All the muscles in my left hamstring were giving it some big chat this morning: 'Slow down fatso.' 'Why we carrying Biceps Femoris?' 'Come on, lad - slow down. Walk. I've got some news for you, kidda, there isn't a sinlge soul getting out of this place alive. So stop and walk. Go home and get back into bed.' 'Tis futile, all this jogging malarkey, so it is.' Of course, I soldiered on.

While I was plodding along I saw the hill I'm going to use for my first session of reps. It's a beautiful boreen (there's a new word for you, lads) that snakes up a hill for about 1.5 miles. Gentle but toughish. My first session will be 6-8 x300m on this baby. I'll build up to 10x300m and then look at doing some longer stuff on it. First though, I've got to get back into some steady running. It'll probably be late January before the hill and I go toe to toe.

I took Andrea's advice on the old hammy injury and did some cross training this morning. In fact, I didn't have any choice in the matter. Her-in-doors told me to clean the windows. I went at it like a good-un. Super sets. No recovery between windows. Form needs a bit of work - streaks running down every window of the house; got a feeling she'll have me out there again tomorrow. Ho hum.

Anyway, come here and listen to this: wolfed down some of the cheaper creamy caramel ice cream last night. Had it with pukka American pancakes, so I did. How about that? Pukka American pancakes. Made in China, so they were.

Come here, there's more... made a batch of health bars this morning. Get a pen and write this down, cause these are where it's at, ladies. Oats, milled flax seed and goji berries, pumkin seeds and sunflower seeds and sesame seeds, chopped organic apple, Chia bia, a good few dollops of organic probiotic yoghurt, and oodles and oodles and oodles of cinnamon all mixed together. Fudge into a batch of bars and let them set in the fridge for about half an hour plus. Oh ladies, I'm telling you - tickle your toes and sneeze and then tell me you believe in Bam-Bam Bars. Oooochy-coochy-ow-ah . Oh yeah.

Lads, it is with a huge lump of disappointment that I have to announce that this will be my last blog. Unfortunately, the real world needs me – that’s all I can say.

I have enjoyed my time here and the support and well wishes I’ve received have eased the early stages of my comeback. I hope to continue my comeback; however, 'The Road' now takes me to foreign climes and the nature of my business with the world precludes me from enjoying the chit-chat of social media etc. I will, however, give you a wave and wink after I win the 2013 Cork marathon. You’ll read about me in Running Times after my sub 2:20 aged 50 – that is, of course, if I survive the task that awaits me out there in the real world. If you live in Utah, don’t panic: I doubt my journey will take me through your part of the world.

I wish all of you well with your running and hope that you enjoy the remainder of your time on this merry-go-round. Keep smiling, lads: )