It must be running - laura said so at the end of last week - although it may not be in a form easily recognised by the casual observer.
‘I am a runner...’ i wheezed to myself as was overtaken, en masse, by the local fitness club taking a leisurely stroll.
‘I am a runner’, i reiterated, vision, misted over by oxygen deprivation and dripping perspiration.
‘I am a runner!’ I whooped inwardly as I staggered, beetroot-faced through the 5min warm down.
It must be true. Laura said so.