Dark clouds are gathering over running HQ, which is now back in London. Have been to see the physio today and the news is not good. All inflamed from calf to hip and am to do no running for another week. None! There are only 5 left until the big day and now another one is lost! And I haven't even run half the distance yet.
Crap!
Have got battery of execises to do morning and night in  the meantime and physio is recommending some kind of gel insert for my shoes. She is not hugely optimistic about my chances for the race; if (if?) I do make it to the start she says I am likely to be doing far more walking than running. I'm so gutted and fed up. I think I'm going to eat some chocolate and pull the wings of the sodding bluebottle that is buzzing around the flat to cheer myself up (don't worry, you members of the Bluebottle Protection Society, I'm going to beat it to death with my Matt Roberts' 'Get Running' book first. It won't feel a thing....)

Do you know what? Sod it. I will be on the start line on the 7th of October and I will cross the finish line (hopefully also on the 7th October) even if I have to crawl over it, which is looking more and more likely. So there.

On a brighter note Fibonaccithecat went to see VetJanet this morning and he has put on weight, tipping the scales at 4.8kg! So that's good. Must be all the custard tarts the Old Matriarch has been sharing with him.....