Running away with it...

This week has been one of - groan - self-discovery, and - double groan - New Year's resolutions. I've already broken one hastily made goal, or at least have the intention to do so on March 15th when I don't run the half-marathon in Bath. Yes, 13 miles of pavements I will not be gracing with my - ehem - fast-footed, finely-honed running. Having made this solemn confession, I can add that my head is not hanging in complete shame, as I have every intention of trying to do the Bristol half-marathon instead, in the more realistic month of September. And I've even taken the first step of joining a beginners' running group to up my rather pathetic 25 minutes slow jog to something a little more half-marathon-worthy. However - here's the self-discovery bit - I've realised much as I quite enjoyed the run, I can't think of anything worse than wanting to be Paula Radcliffe. (Note to all - this was never likely, but play along.) Imagine it. One foot after the other for hours and hours, miles and miles each week. (According to her training diary, published in The Guardian's cannily-timed 'Get Fit' supplement yesterday, a daily 'warm-down' run lasts 35-40 minutes. I rest my case.) Imagine the daily mental battles - just to that tree, that lamppost, count to 100 three times, don't stop, don't stop, don't stop. Worst of all, a relaxing part of the training appears to be an ice bath. An ice bath? Relaxing? No siree. Proper runners can keep their ice baths and warm-down runs to themselves. Give me a bit of running and a warm bath filled with bubbles anyday.