Great North Run 2009

I was brought up with running in my blood. My father Jack and my Uncle George were members of Gateshead Harriers, years before Brendan Foster propelled the club to its current astronomical status.

Running in the 1950/60s was restricted to the dedicated. There weren't any "fun runs" and the only people attempting half marathons (like the Morpeth one) were running club members. It was all very serious stuff.

So when Brendan masterminded the first Great North Run I was delighted to bask in its fantastic atmosphere - those runners in fancy dress and the fantastically brave people running for great causes and heart-rending personal reasons.

Oh, and I forgot to mention the fantastic, ever-present Jimmy Saville.

Savouring every minute

For many years, my wife Cath and I cheered the runners on and watched out for friends at the finish in South Shields - until in 2001 a friend asked Cath if she would run in her place as she couldn't take part.

Believe me, Cath could have written a book about the great time she had and the fabulous people she encountered on the route.

Lots of people dress up for the run

For me, waiting for her to finish the race was agonising, and then her absolute elation on that day made me both envious and secretly determined to do the run myself sometime.

So in 2003, at the age of 55, I embarked on one of the most exciting and enjoyable days of my life. Cath, being much younger than me, could easily have left me behind but we trundled along together savouring every minute of the punishment.

I couldn't pinpoint any best moment; there were so many. The cries of "oggy, oggy, oggy" on the Tyne Bridge or maybe on the final stretch when I was overtaken by an ostrich, a Native American pushing a wigwam and three can-can dancers.

Did I care? Not likely. I was the proudest bloke at the finishing line. My time? I forgot to look.

I stick to doing the Great North Walk now - the 2009 event was excellent - but I still glow with pride at the Great North Run medal hanging in my trophy room (the cloakroom, actually).

My advice to anyone even half capable of doing the 13.1 miles - "once before you die" - well worth the effort.