In. The. Bag.

I was quite nervous about this morning’s planned 18 miler. Firstly because I was worried that my knee or calf would give up and I’d have to get a taxi rescue and secondly because I’m prone to, er, toilet issues on long runs and I didn’t want to show myself up in front of my running friend who is also my pilates instructor. Thankfully, all was well. My body behaved.

It was much tougher than normal training runs on account of a) having to make conversation and breathe all at the same time b) too many hills because we decided to run to and around Nescliffe c) too much sand because Cliffe is ridiculously sandy at the moment and d) I couldn’t wimp out in front of my new running friend. We did it and it was actually delightful.

The worst thing about marathon training is that you’re good for nothing for the rest of the day. I’ve had to wean myself off Below Deck so binged out on Celebrity Masterchef instead. Marginally less trashy.