Two ultra-runners and a triathlete were running a very hot race...

and suffering in the sun, when they came across the wreck of an old car. To ease the burden of the heat, they each decided to take one piece of the car with them as they continued.
The first ultra-runner took the washer bottle, saying 'when I get really hot, I can pour the water over me to cool off.'
The second ultra-runner took the back seat, saying 'when I get really hot, I can crawl under the seat and get some shade.'
'I'm taking the driver's door,' said the triathlete. ' When I get really hot, I can wind the window down.'

Today, I am, of course, wibbling about the weather; this is the curse of everyone who does outdoor activities. I'd love about 16 degrees, dry and cloudy, but Rule 4 applies: it is what it is.

To this end, I've got complete body waterproofs, sunglasses, a peaked cap and my wetsuit on standby, so I can cope whatever the conditions. I will nevertheless spend all day obsessively refreshing the web pages of several different weather forecast sites, before choosing to believe the one I like best.

I may take some time out to find my boomerang; I can't remember where I left it, but I'm sure it'll come back to me.

I shall take myself out for three miles of light jogging, do one last session with Kia-ora and her yogalates; never before have my facial muscles been so relaxed or my jaw so soft.

All that then remains is some more faffing and wibbling, followed by a very early start tomorrow.

NEY Dave (and maybe one or two other people!) may appreciate the irony of a present given to me my my dear wife recently. For the rest of you, it's an in-joke, fully explained in this blog if you're eaten up with curiosity:

Remember, kiddies, wearing a hat doesn't make you interesting!

I'm glad to report that the charidee donations have started to trickle in; thank you to Dis and Mr Frog! I'm hoping that, like the Severn, there will be a big gush and a flood in five days time. Blimey, is that a link to my Justgiving page, over there, on the right?

My plan is to blog every day; you can keep up with my astonishingly slow progress here, courtesy of my Executive 'Ead 'Itter, sherpa extraordinaire and lovely wife, Squish.

If you're particularly unlucky, I may tweet stuff from @Crash_Hamster (subject to being able to get a signal/find my phone/being arsed); it'll probably be fairly dull, but that's Twitter for you.

Rumour has it that this is actually a race, so if you want to see how comprehensively I'm being thrashed, there are apparently going to be reports here, daily.

If you've been with me on my journey to this start line, thanks for your help and support; if you were redirected here after looking up 'incomprehensible' in an online dictionary, I hope you're not too scarred.

Thanks as ever to my sponsors: Riverside Fish Bar, Pom Bears and Worcester Royal Infirmary for making me the finely-chiseled athlete that I am today.

I'm going into radio silence with two quotes from famous Daves:

'It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.'

 (Theodore 'Dave' Roosevelt; I may have cheated a little with this one)

and:

'Let's get out there and twat it.'

(Dave Lister)

Let's hope it turns out nice again.