A bag of nerves writes

The run is tomorrow.

Hooray for me: no more pounding the concrete, no more perspiration issues, no more silly 'Eye of the Tiger' peaked cap, no more blinding people with my bling-bling trainers, no more begging my long-suffering friends to mind the kids, no more teenage mockery, no more injuries, no more lost little boys, no more advances from nice-looking stragers. oh.

Hooray for you: no more posts about running, trainers, toe photos, me, me, me, aren't I fit.

More staying in bed. More junk food. More Desperate Housewife, less Challenge Annika. Once the small matter of tomorrow is over, I am going to zip myself into a giant duvet (with arm and head holes), fetch the remote, find a family bag of Doritos and lock the door.