Bag packed. Unpacked. Repacked. Crisps crushed. Foot tape cut to shape , ready for me to mummify them tomorrow AM.

Tincture of Benzoin is one of those things that leaks, no matter how many ziplocks you have sealed it in. Lending everything a medicinal aroma and sticky touch.

Competitors are drifting in. Relieved to arrive with their bags, and to have avoided the mournful empty carousel of doom at the airport.

The race is not 6 stages. The real first stage is getting to the start line and is comfortably the hardest.

The weather forecast for Sunday looks like 20 degrees with rain. Not ideal for those on Greek holiday. But ideal for a pasty Englishman who needs to yomp up 1400m.

I am in tent “Leonidas” in honour of  a Spartan King killed at the Battle of Thermopylae. Does this augur well? I may need to consult the Oracle of Delphi.

Ok, I admit I looked that up. Poor knowledge of Greek mythology is my Achilles’ elbow.

En route.

I have stopped at the Wetherspoons at Heathrow T5 and instantly regretted it.

It’s an exercise in data harvesting to sell you some flaccid toast. Refill coffee is a good idea until you taste it.

Now I understand why most people are drinking lager at 7-30 am.

I waved my checkin bag good bye 30 mins ago. Hopefully we will be reunited in Greece.

Amongst other treasures it holds my long handled titanium spoon.

An essential piece of kit that balances lightweight material and reassuring expense, with the ability to scape rehydrated chicken tikka out of the corner of a plastic bag.

What joys await.

I am keeping an eye out for any travellers who are wearing outsize trainers and lightweight backpacks.

They will either be fellow RTP ers , or else heading to the Camino.

Must dash to the boarding gate..

Shoes, Stains and Cheese

I fly to Athens tomorrow and then onwards travel to the race hotel near Marathon.

I am spectacularly under-prepared. As ever, life gets in the way and a cold (man flu) over the last 2 weeks has further dialled back my efforts.

I am trusting that muscle memory from events of yonder will kick in and propel me round the course, fuelled with a bag of sweets and a nice view.

If it all get’s too much I can just retire to a local Taverna for some Spanakopita and a cold Mythos.

Thankfully it is unlikely that I am pregnant, and as such I don’t need to take Bobby Brainworm and the Orange Gorilla’s ill-thought-out advice and skip the paracetamol.

In fact if they say something is bad for you, it is probably good for you, so I may double dose.

Other drug induced ways of flying around the 250km may be avoided. But thankfully I have now invested in a new pair of those Hoka Shoes. As a result I am 2 inches taller and can bounce around the Peloponnese like a blue footed Kangaroo.

The last time I herd of Vibram they we all in on rubber racing socks, and feeling the ground twixt your toes. They now seem to have embraced making trampoline soles like space hoppers.

Look forward to arriving tomorrow and spending a happy 24 hours packing and repacking a large amount of expensive and lightweight kit.

Albeit some of which I have been carting around deserts for 15 years. In an effort to avoid sewing new patches on tops I have dug out some old shirts from years past.

OK I may not look sharp on the start line, but they have a rich patina of aged lucky stains, and not all of which are unmentionable.

If I get hungry I can probably suck out the remnants of a dehydrated curry meal c2015. I am sure it will retain some nutritional value.

I will also crush a large packet of Salt and Vinegar crisps into a small packet of 1000 calorie dust. Eating really bad sh1t with a spork is one of an RTP’s great underrated pleasures.

I have not added cheese to my rations yet, as I reckon I can buy the best stuff locally.

Feta late than never

Greece is the word, is the word that you heard
It's got a groove, it's got a meaning
Greece is the time, is the place, is the motion
Greece is the way we are feeling

Well the place will indeed be Greece, and the time will be in 36 days. Hopefully there will be some motion, although I am not sure it is how I am currently feeling.

By the look of the course across the Peloponnese, there will be plenty of mountains and valleys, albeit not a Frankie Valli.

As ever my training plans will kick in just in time to realise it is time to taper.

And, as the inevitable downward slope of time heads towards the upward slope of reality I hereby commit for the 12^th time to make it the last time, until next time.