ANOTHER week another race.

On Sunday I participated in the fabulous Men's 10K in the South Side of Glasgow, along with 3000 or so other chaps.

You will have read the news report on the race in Monday's Evening Times.

It's no coincidence that this annual race occurs on Father's Day.

What used to be called the Men's Health 10K is a good running event, but still is a focus for a number of medical charities and is a platform for spreading the word on male health issues - not least mental health, as the organisations See Me and Breathing Space are both sponsors.

Check it out for next year at

Once again, I was worried about my ongoing foot problem.

I am awaiting a chance to get it X-rayed after seeing the doc last week.

That procedure is to check for/ rule out arthritis, and point the way to getting physio to sort out an apparent tendon problem.

However, it is a niggle and not a disaster, and on Sunday I was comfortable enough taking the pace easily.

I didn't push, and recorded an ok 1 hour 6 minutes. The Batman top was not dishonoured, at least.

The Men's is a multi-faceted festival of races. It includes a 5K and a family 3K on the Saturday and a Rascal Run for kids on Sunday before the big race, as well as entertainment and food, and attracts all sorts of participants.

There are some very fast men - the route rather cruelly lets us watch them sprint past us towards the 9th kilometre while we mortals are only trudging past the 3km marker going the other way - but also ordinary joggers like me, and some brave but clearly unfit chaps too.

Their contribution is a full one though, as they are sacrificing their comfort and inflicting pain on themselves for good causes. Respect, guys.

And of course, there are the exhibitionists.

A fully dressed, caped and bewigged Elvis trotted in at an hour and a half, closely followed by a superbly made up and costumed clown with a big hooter, and a Power Ranger.

Superman and Spider-Man onesies proliferated.

My own understated Dark Knight look still managed to get a few shouts from the spectators lining the route though.

These races don't happen by accident.

As well as the organisers themselves, there is an army of helpers, attendants, marshals, council workers, police officers and volunteers for a vast range of duties.

From the lady that stood on her own at a lonely corner of Pollok Country Park in her race tabard to ensure that we runners went the right way, and clapped and encouraged every one of us, to the team at the end that gave out the bananas, goodie bags and medals, from the hardworking council workers who picked up the thousands of thrown-away partly-drunk water bottles at the drinking stations to the gym staff who conducted the disco-accompanied mass warm-up, everyone contributed to the success of the day.

The route is a fairly decent one. There are a couple of uphills, mainly two in Pollok, but most of the road is flat. From Bellahouston Park you go via Mosspark Boulevard to Haggs Road, through Pollok and double back along Haggs, then via Dumbreck back into Bellahouston.

The finish is the usual grandstanding affair where a large crowd cheers all the runners in their final sprint, while the commentator identifies many of them/us on the tannoy.

But the event was especially pleasant because it is not just the men/fathers celebrating and getting involved.

Many brought entourages of partners and kids, and some grandparents too. It all made for a festive morning, and there was a palpable atmosphere of positivity.

Indeed the whole event, like the Women's 10K and the Race for Life, are examples of what this column tries to stand for.

Whether you're running for a charitable cause, wanting to achieve a result, or just getting fit and active, these races are the perfect catalyst for the dietary, exercise and health principles we should all aspire to. It is not meant to be one for a plethora of African superathletes, but a melting pot for men exercising.

It was a triumph, and I hope those who ran will keep going, those who spectated will now have a go, and those who weren't there might catch our infectious enthusiasm like a benign disease.

I will certainly be there next year.