Now it has gotten serious. I applied for a place in the Great North Run via the ballot system and got in.

I never for a minute believed I’d be chosen. It was like one of those dares when you say to each other “shall we?” and then put it to the back of your mind.

Dianne and I had both registered and kept saying to each other “we’ll never get a place”.

This week, other members of the BodyFit family started posting on Facebook that they’d got in. Fine for them, they’re all proper runners. We were getting slightly anxious and messages passed between us saying “oh well, never mind....”

Then Dianne messaged on Wednesday night. “I’ve only gone and got a place! Check your emails.”

I couldn’t as I was nowhere near them.

Thursday morning, I opened my mailbox. Nothing. Oh well, I thought.

Then it occurred to me – it may have gone into spam. There it was, the email from the organisers, saying “The results are in...”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pressed open.

I’d been successful. I actually felt sick.

It seemed like a good idea at the time but now I’m not so sure.

There’s no turning back now. The problem I’ve got is that I think my mojo has gone.

I have always loathed running but developed, for the first time in my life, an iron will to get out there.

But now, the impetus to squeeze myself into Lycra and sweat unattractively for an hour or so seems to have deserted me.

I’ve missed a load of BodyFit classes, which pains me enormously because I’ve paid for them, mainly due to late nights at work and have been studiously ignoring the treadmill at home when I’ve had a spare 30 minutes or so. (In my defence, the book I’m reading is really good).

My internal monologue is howling at me to get that spark back. I think the waistbands on my work trousers are getting a little bit tighter as well.

You would think this would be enough to spur me on, but I’m a fat girl for a reason and two years of exercise is not, at the moment, overruling 20-plus years of bone idleness.

Tracy, my work colleague who is a great runner, assures me it’s a temporary blip and everyone goes through it.

She says it will pass and I’ll get back to it.

I do know it’s got to stop and I do enjoy the runs I make it to.

But now, I really have no excuse. I need taking in hand and shouting at.

There is serious training to be done.

The Great North Run – a mere seven months away – is not something I can just turn up to and hope for the best. It’s not an exam that you can cram for the night before. I have got to put the hours and the miles in.

I’ve gone public, via this column and on the life-suck that is Facebook so everyone knows.

My godmother posted: “You are amazing” and Stuart told me I had to buy shorts now as I was a proper runner. I can’t let anyone down.

But the pressure is terrifying. I could cry. I’m hoping this is just a generally emotional time and this time next week I’m going to be a lot more positive. I’ve simply got to be.