A 'Marathon' called Brathay

A Bear Called Paddington

Abandoned, alone and scared. A little aging loner, low on energy, short on strength, limited in training and terribly, terribly worried about embarrassing himself. Excuses at the ready, not enough training, tweaked hamstring, a pulled achilles. What is blatantly clear is that out of the few Brathay 10in10s I've done, this is the most terrified I've been. Just like Paddington I feel alone, scared and looking for a 'family' to own, or rather want me. Let's hope I can manage multiple adventures around Windermere.

I'm not sat with a suitcase, nor do I have a very neatly scripted label around my neck asking for someone to look after me. Maybe I'm missing a trick, after all I am still single, wink, wink. Strange, because I am, after all, a rare kind of 'bear', a little diminutive, with two large round expressive eyes, sadly hatless. The voyage I'm hoping to take, perhaps as a 'stowaway' is to tag along at the back of some cool people, some proper runners and journey around a rather large lake, or should it be called 'mere' for 10 days. For breakfast I shall partake of marmalade; to be honest it'll be substituted for honey as I can't stand marmalade, who wants to eat the pith. Think you're taking the pith?

Today has been frantic in parts, a few driving lessons this morning, 30 minutes to pack, I've forgotten my toothbrush. Dropped the dog off at the boarding kennels earlier, that was a little weird, I almost felt teary saying goodbye for a while, let's just hope it's the full 10 days though. A bundle of fur less and with legs waxed, chest hair trimmed and beard shaved, as the day wore on, the growl subsided and now I'm beginning feel less bear like.

Arriving in 'Duncan-time', the first person to greet me at Brathay was 'Aunt' Lucy, can you believe it? Her smile and kindly arm on my shoulder instantly made me feel at ease. Coming here always, feels comfortable, feels homely. Cumbria is such a large place, and the people are so busy, it's nice to feel wanted. Maybe I'll be good company for the other people doing the event, perhaps have a giggle with the cool kids (the Cumbria Uni second-year sport rehabilitation students)? I've met my physio Ella. She's 'dope' but a City fan, why does Dr Katie do this to me? The opportunity for banter? Apparently Ella doesn't know who the Thompson Twins (either the band or the detectives) are, nor Herge's Adventure of Tintin. Think there's some education coming in the physio room. No doubt, there will be misadventures along the way, bound to be, Paddington is here...

Unpacking my valise, I've realised I've left in a bag in my bathroom at home, all my toiletries, medicines, ointments and lotions. At my age they're needed. Need to get that sorted I think, probably need Jaffa Cakes and Sugar Puffs too, except for the fact they're now called Honey Monster Wheat Puffs or some such nonsense. What I did find was a strange Christmas visitor, no idea how he got there, but tucked into a side pocket was our Christmas Elf, Orange. And, that's just reminded me, I've left a full carton of orange juice and milk in the fridge at home, not together of course, that would be silly. Separate cartons, but they are going to be well off, by the time I get home. When I say well off, I don't mean wealthy and have moved out together and into a mansion, or some such absurd notion.

It's like a sick joke of shoving a dead puppet in my bag!

The plan tomorrow is to finagle around Windermere's 26.2 mile marathon course, hopefully without injury. Sounds like the best (only) plan available to me.

There was a baby in the dining room, the room was as noisy as the Tube, physios, athletes, important people sat and chatted or mingled with pleasantries, but I was drawn to the baby, beautiful big blue eyes and he seemed to smile at me, so over I went, uninvited but willing to make friends. We chatted, well as best you can with someone the same mental age, he was about as coherent too. It was then I remembered my manners and went around to say hello to the people I actually knew, careful to shake hands with my clean paw (and not the one covered in the remnants of a brownie I'd eaten earlier) nor hug too strongly, or invade their space.

It dawned on me during one of the speeches that I had embarrassed myself with one of the most awe-inspiring, phenomenal, ridiculously amazing people you could ever get to meet. I'd inadvertently blanked them, perhaps a better explanation would be to say I'd not recognised them as I'd be captivated by the bundle of 'babyness' in the corner. No-one puts baby in the corner!

No-one should put Jasmin Paris in the corner too. Jasmin Paris! Wow! Running royalty, felt like I was meeting the Queen. Waiting until everyone had left the dining room, I had genuinely joined the party late, I tried to quietly approach her, but not in a weird way, at least I hope not, thankfully the Chief Executive of Brathay was present, so in the blur of the exchange, I'm sure I squeaked a story out and tried to explain I thought she was just the most amazing person, rather humbly she replied she wasn't. The Barkley Marathons finisher, the only woman to ever do it, and she thinks she's just not that jaw droppingly brilliant. Mic drop! I'm now desperately trying to remember if anything additionally ridiculous came out of my mouth, it probably did. I'm sure I repeated about 6 times how awe inspiring and amazing I think she is. Think that about does it, I can't be a 'normal' sort of bear can I?

THE FINISH LINE FOR THE NEXT 10 DAYS - WELCOME TO BRATHAY 10IN10