I’ve never been a runner. I remember at school we had to do a long distance run. They called it ‘Cross country’ but it was basically just doing laps around all the school fields. I was always in the last three to five people. Not that I cared. I like sport but running wasn’t my thing, so perhaps being forced to do this started my hatred for long distance running.

My Uncle on the other hand used to run marathons for fun. Well guess what, he packed it in his 50’s because his knees were hurting. He’s almost 80 now and miraculously still walks a lot but I remember him complaining about his knees.

Now we have my mate Andrej, another lunatic that likes to run about fifty miles a week in total, sometimes more, and what’s his advice? “Don’t f#*kin run.”
I’ve watched as he’s had to have both knees operated on which has caused his mental health to decline. Being a bed bound cripple for a couple of months is no joke. This scenario seems to be inevitable with everybody I’ve ever known who’s took running to the extreme.
I think a little bit of running is good, great for the heart, especially sprint training, but long distance running? No way, count me out and pass me bicycle instead.