The loneliness of the long distance runner

So here I am. Saturday night and I'm in my shoebox-sized hotel room in Berlin watching BBC News, my only English TV channel.

Clothing is laid out, complete with lucky hat; race number attached; timing chip shoe-laced in; pasta ingested.

Now all there is to do is to wait, and then sleep. And hush the little part of me that pipes up every now and then saying 'what the hell are you doing?! Why aren't you at home in London drinking wine with everyone else?'