Breakfast.
Whoever said that breakfast was the most important meal of the day wasn't kidding.  Full English for me, each and every race day.  Counteract any ill effects from the night before, load you up with essential goodness for the race ahead.  I know some runners can't cope with much beyond some PowerGel for breakfast but I can't imagine anything less than a massive plate of bacon, eggs, fried bread, hash browns, sausage, black pudding, grilled tomatos.  Oh, and some toast.  Musn't forget the toast.  Breakfast of Champions.  I've had to beg and bribe a few hotel chefs around the world, explain to them the benefits of these nutricious goodies.  Helsinki was fun.  But they know me there now, don't even have to place the order.  It just arrives!

Warm up.
Depending on the length of the run ahead, I'll do a warm-up of anything from a mile to three or four.  Down to the river, pick a direction, pick a bridge and go.  Don't use the race playlist on the iPod, pick something mellow, take my time.  Just loosen everything up and remind the legs that all they need to do is plant one foot in front of the other.

An hour before.
Turn up.  Always a bonus to running a race, being there.  Early start or more than an hour or two from London and I'll go the day before, last train or flight if I have to.  But turn up and soak up the pre-race vibe, draw on everyone else's energy, say hi to the regulars.  Then, and this next is vital, agree the pub and the meeting time for the post-race pint.  Race days are always good days.  Never drink on a bad day.

The briefing.
Pay attention.  Even if it's a race I've run for years, there might be a route change.  I know I'm going to be playing follow-the-leader, so there's minimum chance of getting lost, but there's always the middle bit where the field is well spread out and you can't see another runner.  Especially on the country runs.  Cities aren't so bad.

The race proper.
The first mile is the key.  Feel good for that first mile and you're golden for the rest of the race.  Get the right tunes, follow the beat, ignore your surroundings.  Just settle into a rhythm and go for it.  The second mile is pretty key, too.  Keep the pace, keep the beat.  The beat, for me, is everything.  Carefully crafted playlists, one song merging into the next.  Mostly Autumn to Jarre, to Floyd, to Nightwish, to the Art of Noise.  Only when I started running did I truly appreciate the pleasure of a fifteen minute extended 12" mix, the pleasure of just loosing myself in the music.  There's nothing better.  If I'm just doing a 10k, I'll push myself.  Go for something a little faster than I thought was comfortable, force myself to keep the beat.

First drinks station.
Water's heavy.  There's always going to be plenty of drink stops, so don't panic unless you're running on a scorcher.  Smile, be polite.  Too many runners just grab, chug and chuck.  By the time the last station comes around, that smile might be hard to find but the people manning it will be the same ones, and they'll remember you.

Halfway.
Halfway is when you realise that you've got how far left to go?  It ain't bad on a 10k, barely broken a sweat, but on a half or a full you've still got the lion's share left to go.  I swear those miles get longer.  Playlist moves to something with a bit more energy.  Ruslana, Def Leppard, Man O War.  Give you that extra kick to cover the next mile.  Then it's downhill all the way.  Unless you're running in Hastings, where they seem to be able to pluck out some more uphill from somewhere, or Shetland where the whole bloody half marathon is uphill!  Oh, and Dundee where they lure you into a false sense of security with a flat first half then send you uphill for the rest.   Bastards.

The end.
Nothing is further than that last mile.  You can see the finish line.  There's a few where you can see it from some way off but it's that last mile that it really kicks in.  Now it's time for the real high-energy stuff.  Bump the playlist to Extreme and make your legs keep up the beat.

Crossing the finish line is like magic.  Suddenly you realise what you've just done, and your legs tell you quite forcefully that you don't have to run any more.  Slow down, collect your goodie bag, and make for the rendezvous point.  Nothing tastes as good as that first beer.  And if there's curry involved, well that's just golden.