15 days to go!
Guess what, blogfollowers?
9 miles!! Little old asthmatic,not-very-fit, perennially injured me ran 9 miles today. NINE!
Paula Radcliffe, eat my shorts!
I can scarce believe it. Mind you, I can't actually walk now, my feet look like they've been transplanted from a hobbit and I think I'll have to put my dancing pumps up on eBay. But 9 miles! Thanks once more to my stalwart friends who gave up their Saturday morning to push/pull me round Hampstead Heath (and with a hangover! Not mine, I hasten to add).
And thanks to the person/persons unknown who sponsored me on Friday a very generous amount, taking me passed my total for bone cancer research.  Whoever you are, thank you so much.
So there is a meteor shower of hope streaking across the dark skies above Running HQ. And with it, belief at last. OK the last 4 miles will be in the lap of the Gods, but I am hopeful.

God if Quins don't win I shall cry. What are they doing? I could have bloody well scored that with my eyes closed.