I find this whole thing becoming more and more like a physical and mental game of snakes and ladders.
Having failed two runs in a row (falling short by 1 minute in w6r1 and 3 mins in w6r2 today), when I had hoped to do tthem without problem, I shall grasp the snake which will take me back down to start the week again.
Given that I had no expectations of being able to run anywhere after 40 odd (very odd) years of not running at all that really doesn't dismay me though. In fact I find I have little emotional involvement in this whole process - observing my progress, or lack of, with a kind of out-of-body detachment (helped by the dispassionate collection of data by Runkeeper).
The mere fact of now being able to run any distance is slightly strange and rather alien as I have often looked at the pain on the faces of runners going past and thought 'Why would anyone do that?'.
And I can embrace the failure of the last two runs because I am surprised and pleased to find that I am running faster and further each time - so while the time does not increase, the distance does. So, to paraphrase the England rugby coach, I can take a positive from that.
I am lucky enough to have a runner's physique (or as SWMBO rather brutally puts it, 'you look like a famine victim'), so I think I just need to persuade the legs to man up a bit and stop acting like the toothpicks they appear to be (I am contemplating threatening them with lycra and see if that embarrasses them into action).
We shall see. It is all rather addictive and I am sure that I will come to like it. After the latest delivery from sweatshop I cannot afford not to...