When I first applied to run the London Marathon, I was under no illusions as to how tough it would be. I knew I was going to have to run in the dark three or four times a week and that the fundraising would take up several hours on top of that - my expectations have been proved right and then some. The main problem was that I didn't really start training until I heard I was definitely in, leaving myself under four months to be ready to run 26 miles. Problem number two was that although I had fundraising ideas, I didn't do anything about them until just before Christmas, once again when I knew my place in the event was secure. And, in the true spirit of things coming in threes, I hadn't set up a timetable so that all this could be fitted in around my normal workload. Four weeks into my training schedule, I am waiting for a knock on the door from a circus promoter as my juggling skills are quickly starting to improve. Sometimes the thought of running after 12 hours at work is daunting but every time my enthusiasm wanes just a little, I think of assembling in Hyde Park, running past the Cutty Sark, struggling over Tower Bridge and crawling up The Mall and my motivational battery recharges once again. It is also bolstered by the messages of support I am receiving from people who have read this column. The other day I received a cheque in the post from one reader and my e-mail inbox is being clogged up with notes from fellow runners, friends, strangers and acquaintances alike. I also received a message last week from a local lady who had lost two relatives to cystic fibrosis, the condition I suffer from and am raising money for, and that also reminded me why I undertook my challenge in the first place. Now with under three months to go, as well as training, I am starting to make preparations for the day itself - Sunday April 18. I have already arranged to stay with friends in London the night before - the thought of getting up at 5am and having a two hour train journey only filled me with fear - and on the day Alan's Groupies, a small team of family and friends, will be travelling to the capital to make sure I complete the course with my dad under strict orders to drag me across the line if it looks as though my energy levels are falling. One of them will also be in charge of holding a bottle of Champagne, currently hidden at the back of my drink's cabinet, which will be cracked open once I have crossed the finish line. That is another thing spurring me on because I haven't touched a drop of alcohol since New Year's Eve - it was a necessary resolution in my quest to get fit. At the moment all that seems like some kind of pleasant dream, but in a couple of months I am sure the true reality of my challenge will become clear.