Running is rubbish, I hate running. And Eddie Izzard.

 Pic cap: Eddie Izzard, annoyingly running lots of marathons and putting me in the shade.

I am so glad that April 25 is now just around the corner.

Of course in many ways I'm terrified, but lately I have been fighting to resist an overwhelming urge to jack it all in and head to the pub to go and find the life I used to have some time ago.

To be honest it was that Eddie Izzard who put me in this mood and his marathon challenge for Sport Relief.

I can't believe it. There I was, 18 stone plus and about to start training for a marathon. 12 months down the line and I've lost four stone and achieved more than I ever thought possible, even having a film mad about my journey. And then a slightly podgey transvestite comedian decides to run 43 marathons in a row. So now everybody's like, 'well, you're no Eddie Izzard are you?'. Then he goes and finishes the London Marathon in five hours, which means if I don't do the same, I will forever have to live with the fact that an overweight middle aged comic outran me on every level. I just feel like, what's the point? It's obviously not that big a deal if he can crawl around Britain chomping in ice creams all the way round and then put in a the kind of performance I've been training for a year to achieve.

It's even more painful as, and I know this may sound weird, more than one person has in the past thought that I may have sounded and even looked a little like the boy Izzard at times, which for somebody with an ego the size of mine was very nice to hear.

And if by some remote chance he does somehow find out about this blog, I should say that I think he's very funny and have been a big fan for many years.

To be so close to the end of this utterly bonkers attempt to get fit and healthy is a relief. I'm pleased as well that I have managed to get to 20 miles in training, as if I do nothing else then that is an achievement in itself.

I also achieved my fastest 10k run last weekend. In The Plan it said I needed to put in a good effort on a 10K run, so I did, and finished in 1hr 5mins. I know that's not going to trouble the GB Olympic team selection committee, but to put it in context it was ten minutes quicker than the Weston Christmas Cracker I did in December, and it's all of 30 mins quicker than the Bristol 10K I did in May last year at the start of this training regime.

But as I started the run I felt nothing more than resentment and irritation at having to be on my feet at all.

It feels like all week all I can think about is how far I'm going to run, what route to take, what I should be eating, whether I can go out that night and lose vital sleep or pasta meals.

I've just put off seeing a couple of good friends tonight because I am going to attempt 22 miles tomorrow and all I can do tonight is eat a huge bowl of pasta and get an early night.

It's frankly anti-social and I haven't seen any of my friends for months. Last night I went out to see a friend who was leaving his job, not really of his own will but we've all been there! And predictably I spent the night drinking soda and limes and by 11pm was pretty much ready to come home.

But I realised that I hadn't seen half the people there since Christmas, which is rubbish really.

Friends who have had children lately will be taking them off to university by the time I see them again.

And still it's bloody raining and cold and crappy weather out there, when will it ever warm up? I'll tell you, it's going to be April 25, marathon day, it'll suddenly be the hottest April day on record and I'll faint from heat stroke after three miles.

Although the 20 miles I did two weeks ago felt like a great achievement and wasn't as painful as I imagined, the very thought of spending more than four hours running around Bristol again, fills me with dread.

I think it's because it's so tedious after a while. I've started driving to different places to start my runs because I'm so damn bored of running up Cranbrook Road and over Clifton Suspension Bridge and then down the bloody boring endless Portway.

I know where every dip in the pavement is, where the overgrown bushes attack you, where the yapping dogs live and where the badly parked 4x4s are along the way.

But I also know it does feel wonderful and amazing and all of that stuff once I get my arse round the course and get into it. I just wish it was a bit warmer, sunnier and more interesting to look at. It's got to the point where I just don't give a damn about running or anything to do with it.

My trainers sit in the hallway tormenting me. It's supposed to be Peak Week this week, and I've been a bit naughty by not going out every day like it says, but to be honest I just can't do that. I'm not built to run five days a week. Me and running would have really fallen out if I had.

And I'm all grumpy about the fundraising as well, only half way there and no idea how I'm going to hit the target.

Of course there is no way I'm not going to go through with this, it's been my life for a year, but it's kind of nice just to say the unsayable and let off a little steam.

Also, I'm not really whinging. I know three quarters of the world lives on less than a dollar a day etc and yes, it's entirely my own decision to run a marathon blah blah. Doesn't mean it's all medals and personal bests all the way though.

On the upside, the Brtitish Heart Foundation have been in touch about using my 'story' as a case study for a weight loss campaign they're launching so hopefully that may help with the fundraising.