Alvechurch, Catherine de Barnes & Birmingham City Centre, England

The idea of this half-term mini-break was a 'lads and dads' bonding trip, and Dylan and I had chosen to return to the canals and locks of England having enjoyed it so much in July, this time inviting my friend Gareth and his son Robert to accompany us. And so we found ourselves flying into Birmingham on a blustery late-October afternoon, taking a short Uber ride to Alvechurch Marina on the Worcester & Birmingham Canal, and boarding the Common Swift, our 50ft narrowboat home for the next four nights.

Pulling out from the marina ('turn left for Birmingham') into the rapidly fading light, I was acutely aware that - despite a bit of experience at this - this was my first time skippering a boat, and I did feel a little nervous. However as we tied up outside the Hopwood House pub an hour later for a lovely family meal with Roy and Lynda (who'd also gamely offered to bring our shopping for us), I felt quietly confident we had it in us.

Day two started wet. We headed straight into the Wast Hills tunnel, an eerie 1.5 mile straight slog underground, the arches of light marking the entrance and exit barely visible at either end once we were properly in. With some drum & bass blasting, it felt like going from the English countryside right into a dystopian nightclub! Emerging from the tunnel back into the rain, and now with full waterproofs on, we headed east on the the Stratford-Upon-Avon Canal for a lock-free morning of cruising, with just a substantial fallen tree blocking the canal to deal with, before a quick tie-up for lunch.

The afternoon brought the end of the rain, which was just as well as we had all 19 Lapworth Locks to descend, and a (luckily more than game) new crew to teach. They took to it quickly though, and it wasn't long before we were joining the Grand Union Canal and turning north, where we tied up for the night in the dying light, for a quick tomato pasta supper and a game of Risk (Robert won, for the record).

It was now that we made 'the decision'. Sally at the boatyard had warned us against this plan, convincing us it was impossible due to the lack of daylight hours at this time of year. But, weighing up our progress so far, we decided otherwise. The idea was that rather than pressing on for a bit before turning around to return the way we'd come, we would instead push up into city centre Birmingham, heart of the canal network, before returning by another route, completing the so-called 'Birmingham Mini Ring'. However, to achieve it we'd have to set off very early - half an hour before sunrise. We were up for it!

So it was that day three started with a chilly cruise north as the weak winter sun rose into a red sky, and an early ascent through the five stunning Knowle Locks, the only boat on the move, just as had been the case the day before. Apart from one half-empty lock pound that threatened to ground us, we emerged without incident, and from there it was a picturesque cruise through the village of Catherine de Barnes and on, westward now, through Solihull and the rapidly urbanising surroundings. It was here that we had to deal with a delapidated old cruiser that had broken from its moorings and was blocking the canal entirely.

In the city centre now, we negotiated more locks, urban and graffitied this time, and were joined by my stepdad David, who arrived tooled up with his personal lock key, ready for action. Passing a small tented homeless city with sweary, agitated inhabitants, we then ascended the famous Farmers Bridge Locks right into city centre Birmingham, and our mooring for the night at Gas Street Basin, surrounded by old boating toll houses, wharfs, stables and pubs - a wonderful location, and a good place to enjoy a well-earned home-cooked vegetable curry. Oh, and we'd completed the 'impossible' longest day with two hours of daylight to spare. What do you think of that, Sally?

In truth both full days so far had been a bit too manic, so day four was deliberately planned to be less so. We had a leisurely breakfast, then set off on a self-guided walking city centre treasure trail, that introduced us to the history behind many of the old canal fittings. It took a while though, and we were glad to get out of the rain for a hot chicken roll for lunch. It was then that Dylan pointed out we now had less time than we had been told we needed to get back home this afternoon before dark. Looked like another mission! I downloaded a phone speedometer to help us assess our progress, and we powered south, past the huge Cadburys factory at Bourneville, stopping only once mid-stream to cut much rope and several plastic bags from the prop. Both Robert and Dylan helped with the steering, as we careered back through the Wast Hills tunnel, past Hopwood House, and finally to Alvechurch Marina after sunset and with very little light left. Job done!

A Halloween night walk into the village for a chip shop supper ended the day and the mission, and all that was left the next morning was to clean the boat, pack our bags, wolf the rest of the food for breakfast, and grab another Uber back to the airport for the flight home.

It was a great trip - I enjoyed reaffirming my newly rediscovered love of the canals; Dylan proved a competent lock operator and excellent skipper himself; Gareth and Robert enjoyed something completely new to them, with Robert picking up manouevring a narrowboat very quickly indeed; and the lads bonded well, keeping the dads awake with their messing and giggling well into the night more than once. Just how it should be.

The running

I intended to run three of the four days we were away, but because of the very early morning starts necessary to complete the 'mission' I only managed two; I will have to try to catch us so my current sub-3 hour Malaga Marathon training plan stays on track.

First I did a 24x45 second interval session, 1 minute recoveries, with 3km warm up and cooldown, out and back southwards along the Worcester & Birmingham Canal towpath, which was OK apart from sometimes slowing for bridges, cyclists and muddy leafy sections. Next, on the final morning, I did an even muddier, leafier easy 15km run south from Alvechurch as far as a towpath collapse would let me, then north to the Wast Hills tunnel entrance and back.

I felt OK but as is sometimes the case, the running felt harder than usual with a head full of other things - focusing on running in such distracted circumstances is a skill I'd do well to practise.