Despite all my best intentions, I have been totally rubbish.

Getting out to run has been an almost impossible task, with work and life generally getting in the way and being somewhat of a nuisance.

When I have managed to get out, I’ve been so poor at running, I’ve walked some of the way too.

It was so bad, I couldn’t make it up the path to the Greenway on Saturday and had to walk.

If I had the energy to kick myself, I would. It’s so frustrating I could sob.

Husband is worried, running mates are worried, Sam’s worried.

She said my work-life balance was out of kilter. What she meant was that my run-life and work balance was out of kilter.

Quite frankly, I’ve not been right since Brigham 10k.

On Saturday, Austen wanted to do a 10k run out. Usually I’m up for things like that, but I just couldn’t face it and pootled round our normal 5k route at the back.

I had to put a brave face on it too as the beginners were there on Saturday for their first session, with Sam.

We did a little game at the start to get to know them, where you run round the Lakes Home Centre car park then pair off when Sam shouts and introduce yourself.

The early morning shoppers looked a bit bemused.

Anyway, I asked one of the women I paired up with if she was enjoying it. You know, the normal small talk.

“Hating every minute,” she said. I tried to be positive, I really did, but I couldn’t fib. “Yeah, I still hate it too. But it’s worth it, I promise,” I said, with a false grin on my face.

I could tell she wasn’t convinced. Sorry, lady. You got me at a low moment.

The second woman was very cheery. She recognised me from this column. It was nice to meet the reader.

I got home, all dejected and hacked off and ate cake.

Sunday dawned and it dawned on me that in a month’s time, I’m doing the Macmillan Mighty Hike.

That’s a mere 26-mile walk round the Lake District on June 17 with Dianne and Margaret for charity. Cripes.

Thought I’d better get some practice in, so me and the husband took ourselves out for a walk.

We decided to see how far we could go (although we had to be back for 1pm as the Tesco order was coming).

We did the Workington cyclepath past Camerton to Great Broughton. It was a nine-and-a-half-mile trek in total and on the way out it was fine.

On the way back, my feet started burning and I thought it was my socks rubbing.

By the time I got home, they were on fire (my feet, not the socks) and when I examined them, I’d managed to create a huge blister on each ball of my foot. I’ve spent most of this week waddling like a duck and my fear of the marathon walk has just got a tiny bit bigger.

I have the suspicion that Margaret and Dianne will be forced to carry me.

Hope they’ve been working on their upper body strength.