Each morning I meet the same labrador- a thoroughly enthusiastic good boy who I’ve named Barry. 

I usually pass Barry and his human somewhere near the duck pond and he comes bounding up to me (Barry, not his human) to proudly show me what object he has found that particular day. This morning it was an empty coke bottle as he appears to be doing his bit for the environment.

Cami Appelgren would be proud- be like Barry.

Today, the first run of week two of my training, I decided to pick up the pace from reluctant stagger to equally reluctant trot. With the grace of a wounded wildebeest, I huffed and puffed my way to a personal best. I was so proud of myself that even the smirks from the ‘real runners’ did nothing to dampen my enthusiasm.

As I lumbered around the lake, with the dulcet tones of Rage Against The Machine in my ears, I felt pretty great. Utterly exhausted and tired beyond the imagination of my pre-child-bearing days, but great nonetheless.

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