Mr & Mrs Millards Marathon Challenge/The Times/Body & Soul/Sport Psychology

It's one week to go until the London marathon, how are Mr & Mrs Millard coping with the pressure; while columnist David Aaronovitch recalls his Marathon experience two years ago.

Mr Millard thinks “I'm bound to break down halfway”

Running the London Marathon is like taking a rather nasty written exam. Its date has been fixed in my diary for months, creeping inevitably nearer. It is a somewhat impossible challenge, it has a deadline, and one sunny (though not too sunny) day it will all be over.

In January, I used to worry several times a day about the marathon, although recently a strange thing has happened: I don't think about it at all. But then I wake up and it is staring me in the face, yelling at me. I assume this amounts to a crude defence mechanism. Lately, I have been fretting about defective parts of my 48-year-old body. Last week it was my Achilles tendon (overstretched).

The marathon term I like best of all is “tapering”, jargon for running a lot less in the two weeks before the Big One. Everything is relative of course as I've still been out doing interval training (10 times one-minute sprints, with 2-minute rests in between). But as exam day looms, there is little else to be done. No last-minute cramming, no drinking, early nights, lots of pasta and some Zen thinking, as I'm sure the real battle will be fought in my head.

Philip's expert says...

Make sure you don't hurt yourself, so stay loose and relaxed, and enjoy your running.

Don't run more than four miles at a time in the final week.

Taper off your eating plan as relative to your running, but stoke up on carbs the evening before the race.

You've trained properly, you can do it.

Lloyd Bradley is the author of The Rough Guide to Running (£9.99); e-mail lloyd@fit4lifemedia.com

Mrs Millard thinks “Glide. Power. Achieve it. That's my current mantra”

Well, I'm as ready as I'm going to be. The London Marathon Store (londonmarathonstore.com) has checked out my trainers. I have decided which bra I'm wearing (Nike, black), which top (short-sleeved) and which pants (Capri style), thank you Sweatshop. My fundraising is going well and I've been doing fast-interval training.

I also have a mental training plan from my sports psychologist, Amanda Owens. “You must hit the ground running at the start,” she tells me. She has put together exercises for me to do the night before the big race. This involves reading a list I have compiled of all the races that Mr Millard and I have completed. I've written down how I've felt during the races (good) and my times achieved (also good). Reading the list will help me feel as if running 26.2 miles is actually achievable (we hope).

I've also been sent an inspiring poem by Michelle Dewberry, of The Apprentice fame, which starts thus: “When you stand on the start line, you join the club. When you stand at the starting line you earn your membership. Millions dream of being where you are. You are no longer a dreamer. You are a doer.”

Rosie's expert says...

Make sure you have mentally arrived, ready for the race.

Be aware of the unexpected, and prepare for it.

Look back on what you have achieved.

See yourself in a happy place; running down the Mall to the finish line, and receiving your medal.

Remember to smile as you are running.

Amanda Owens can be reached on www.believeconsulting.co.uk

Mr and Mrs Millard need your help

Rosie and Philip need to raise £2,000 each for their respective charities. Philip is running in aid of TreeHouse, a national charity that was set up in 1997 for the education of autistic children. Rosie is raising money for Help the Hospices, of which there are 240 hospices in the UK offering free care for all who need it.

If you would like to make a donation to Philip or Rosie, log on to themillards.groups.timeshealth.co.uk

Times columnist David Aaronovitch recalls the countdown to the race two years ago

Two weeks before the 2006 London Marathon I ran my last long distance - 20 miles along the Thames towpath - and then, as you are supposed to, tapered down before the big event. The Friday before the marathon I allowed myself only a six-mile run. As I stopped, just before a steep hill, a bloke came up behind me, all split-thigh shorts and pheromones, and said: “Don't give up!” I wanted to race him up the incline, but I had to obey the law of the taper, which has two physical effects: it stops you being tired and it makes it less likely that you'll be injured.

But the third effect, the psychological, turned out to be the most unexpected; I just couldn't wait for the big day. Yes, I was nervous, but I was also totally ready, fitter than I had ever been, thinner than for a decade, and with a need for that endorphin rush, which only a really long run could satisfy. When the day came I was like a greyhound in the traps (albeit a slow, grizzled hound, but keen just the same).

All that worried me, unromantically, in the last day, was digestion and its consequences. Bodily functions are important to distance runners. Plenty of men and women time it right and the early stages of many races are lined with uninhibited urinators, and then later on become ragged with pinched-knee loo-searchers. I am far too squeamish for that, and so it was essential that everything on the Saturday and Sunday happened in the correct sequence. And it did. Good luck Rosie and Philip. It's nearly as good as childbirth.

Triathlon, anyone?

This summer David will be adding cycling and swimming to his semi-competences and taking part in the London Docklands Triathlon, August 9-10. If you are competing in a triathlon, why not join David's club at triathlon.groups.timeshealth.co.uk to swap tips, advice and training schedules.