Far too eager for my own good

So I'm a week into my training regime and I've already been for four 2 miles runs, and am feeling just that little bit smug actually. I feel I've earned it though - I've never run 8 miles in a week in my life! I've even discovered that if you don't actually tear off at a sprint and start at a snail's pace instead you don't collapse in a heap after three minutes... yes it did take me 25 years to make this simple discovery. Suddenly I'm feeling like the lithe, athletic sportswoman I always wanted to be at school, who was hiding inside the sweaty, out of breath girl (well a little anyway.)

So this Easter I balanced all the chocolate with some lovely beachside jogs and felt justified in my scoffing. Not only that, but I'm (95%) sure I'm going to sign up for the Macmillan 10k in June, roping in three or four friends to suffer alongside me. The furthest I have ever run is 5k so doubling that is enough of a scare to get me in peak condition for Iceland.

Heading off for another run now - wonder how long this burst of enthusiastic activity is set to last?