After a week with only one run in it (Strava didn't even record that for some reason so I even, irrationally, doubted it had happened) I was panicking that my get up and go had got up and gone forever. I'd been giving in to to temptation and not going out because it was wintry, and worse than that eating everything in sight.
But I managed to force myself out to parkrun this morning, Storm Barbara notwithstanding, and it was hard (soft and exceedingly soggy but hard as in difficult) but guess what? I came across, picked up and took home my lost mojo. This may be the cause of my forgetting to pick up my fleece from the clothing bin.
I'm a runner! I'm no Mo Farah but I'm a runner!
And if I tell enough people often enough then I'll believe it myself.
Merry Christmas runny-pals. Have a great day. Xx