It has just taken 1.5 hours for me to eat a bowl of muesli. Those of you that have had the pleasure of dining with me will know that I usually inhale my food. To paraphrase Ros Geller, I grew up in a big family “if you didn’t eat fast you didn’t eat”.

After more than two weeks of travelling in Cambodia something isn’t quite right with my gut. But why am I sharing this on a running blog? Well as I’ve previously stated, marathon runners’ interest in all things gastrointestinal is rivalled only by new parents.

But it’s not just that, or the fact that I’m looking for sympathy and possibly aid parcels: it has also reminded me of the awesomeness of running to relate to every shitty situation (pardon the pun). Because staying in a place where I share a bathroom with 10 other people could daunt your average person who is feeling a little under the weather. Not me, I’ve shared a portaloo with 10,000 runners.

What of the 20 meters I may have to dash from my bungalow made of straw to use said toilet? I’ve sucked it up and run a little bit quicker after seeing a ‘Toilet 500m’ sign. I laugh in the face of your 20 meters. And what about eating because it will make you feel better even though it’s the last thing you want to do? I’ve guzzled down Lucozade and kept running even though my stomach felt like it had been hit with a wrecking ball.

So it may have taken half an hour longer than my first ever 10k, but I defeated that bowl of muesli and I will defeat this illness. And next time I jump in a river in Cambodia, I’ll remember keep my mouth firmly shut.