MARATHONS are great places to demonstrate we live in a small world.

For, even in the middle of a busy Spanish city, I somehow contrived to make an Inverclyde connection.

My wife and I were among hundreds from all over the globe at the Barcelona Marathon registration pasta party.

There was standing room only in the cavernous hall, as runners and partners tucked into free grub laid on by the generous organisers.

Eventually we spotted two vacant berths at a table and asked two girls already there if the seats were free.

‘Yes,’ they replied, and added: ‘Are you Scottish?’ It transpired they were English — and one revealed her father is from Port Glasgow and her Aunt Morag still lives there!

I didn’t meet anyone from Inverclyde during the race, but that is exactly what happened in 1998 when I did the London Marathon for the first time.

Walking towards the start among thousands of runners, I heard ‘there’s the Tele man!’ being shouted by Greenock Glenpark Harrier Robert Dolan, who has run more London Marathons than any of us have had hot dinners.

On another visit to the London Marathon, I was going up one of those steep Underground escalators when ‘how’re doin’ Eric?’ rang out from among hordes of bodies.

It was Tommy ‘The Clown’ Armstrong of Greenock, who was also taking part in the race.

The loneliness of the long distance runner is a myth in marathons!