"That Pheidippides has got a lot to answer for,'' grumbled an old friend as we staggered through the 23-mile mark.

Pheidippides, history recalls, was the Athenian courier widely credited for determining the distance of the modern day marathon. Legend has it he ran non-stop four times to and from Sparta to announce the army's victory in battle at Marathon, and on completing his mission promptly laid down and died.

Those of us who limped along the Bermuda International Marathon course back in the late 1970's had some idea how he felt. It resembled not so much a marathon course as an assault course, not helped any by weather conditions that wouldn't have been out of place on a winter's day in Scotland. Those negotiating the Tuckers Town part of the course as a fierce squall raked across the island could have been forgiven for thinking they wee under attack from an errant group of golfers. The hailstones that bounced off our bare, goosebumped arms and legs looked, and felt, like golf balls.

Organisers, of course, couldn't be held responsible for such un-Bermudalike weather. But they sure as hell were accountable for the unforgiving course which to the weary athlete appeared to start on an uphill gradient, finish on an uphill gradient, and have an awful lot of climbs in between. On this course, Pheidippides would surely have collapsed long before his message reached home.

That 1978 experience marked my marathon debut, and should have been painful enough to dissuade any further participation in subsequent 26-mile races. But I, and a few other "athletic'' oddballs were back again a year later, convinced by the race committee that the "new'' course would be less traumatic and more conducive to "fast'' times. Fooled again. The hills were just as punishing and the torturous climb up Commissioner's Hill appeared on the horizon just as one began to think the agony was almost over.

Of course, many of those on the marathon organising committee over the years have indeed run their own course. And in mitigation, no-one has yet been able to figure out how to design a 26-mile hill-free route on this tiny Island.

Yet, year after year after year we've had to contend with this most gruelling of finishes -- all seemingly because National Stadium was deemed as the only appropriate finish line venue. In between, whether the course has wound west, east or in double loops, there's been little respite from inclines which by car or bike seem hardly noticeable but to the exhausted runner can assume Everest proportion. Trimingham Hill, Cox's Hill, McGall's Hill, Shark Hole Hill, Blue Hole Hill, Crawl Hill, and Commissioner's Hill have all taken their toll, concreting Bermuda's reputation as one of the toughest marathon challenges this side of the Himalayas. But finally, with another new course coming into play this year, the message seems to have got through. Bye bye Commissioner's Hill, hello Spanish Point. Starting opposite Barr's Bay Park in Hamilton and finishing on Front Street outside Loquats restaurant, the new course follows much of the same route out along South Shore, but turns onto Barrington Sound at Devil's Hole instead of Paynters Road and continues along North Shore to admiralty House instead of commissioner's Hill. They've actually contrived to arrange a downhill finish ... down Cox's Hill, along Pitts Bay Road and relief at last on Front Street.

Even the two-mile loops which make up this route are probably as gently on foot as any organisers could hope to scheme on this deceptively undulating piece of rock. But Rotterdam, home of the world's fastest course, should still sleep easy. Twice up Trimingham Hill, twice up McGall's Hill, and twice along the wind-exposed North Shore will ensure that Ethiopians Belaynah Densimo's world best of 2:06:50 remains intact. Adrian Robson has run 10 marathons, including a person best 2:52:34 in New York City in 1982. He will only run this year's marathon if he can raise enough bets.