After a day at the hospital and hours spent Christmas shopping amongst such grumpy people, (if it's really that bad why not give vouchers instead ), my knees and feet were aching so much that I nearly didn't go.
Out of my warm, comfortable bed I leapt and hurried out with my son to get my lift away from home. He was so in the zone that he nearly carted me to work with him, which at close to 18 miles is a little far for me, but luckily stopped a little further on than my usual starting place.
It was a dank morning, moisture swirling in the air, water drops the size of teacups dripping off the trees, but the roads were clear and there was just the hint of the faintest twinkling of stars not quite hidden behind the clouds.
My knees kept up their cacophony of screeches and complaints but my head rules with a rod of steel and on I ran.
Halfway through my run my knees and feet kept their mutterings to a bearable level and I managed to relax into my run.
I finished the final minute with a flourish, because I could, and walked home satisfied with life.
Roll on week 7.