I have been liberated. It was totally by accident and due to my indecision, but boy was it worth it.

After last week, the thought of going running on Saturday was filling me with dread.

I was trying to think of the excuse I could use not to go. Then I heard Janette’s voice in my head, telling me to stop being a wimp and leave the house.

Because of my internal hoohah, I’d left it a little bit late to get to Cockermouth and had to hotfoot it out the door.

It was only as I pulled on to Oxford Street that I noticed my wrist was bare.

I’d left my Fitbit hibernating under the sofa because it needed to be charged and it completely slipped my mind to pick it up.

That meant that this morning’s exercise wouldn’t count.

If the Fitbit didn’t know about it, it didn’t exist and was therefore pointless.

I looked at my clock in the car – I had no time to swing back round to the house and get back to Cockermouth at a reasonable time, without leaving the rest of the ladies and Austen waiting for ages.

Ah well, I thought. If it doesn’t count, it doesn’t count.

I got to the car park and was enveloped in a bearhug by Dianne.

They were all worried about me after last week’s feeling really sorry for myself column.

I knew this as there was a 36-message thread on What’s App discussing how concerned they were about me earlier in the week, as though I wasn’t there and couldn’t read it. Sweet.

I’m not sure if they were intending a private conversation and hit the wrong button or if it was meant for me. I’ve not mentioned it until now as I was a little bit embarrassed.

Actually, the support I’ve had from the majority of people has been lovely and really heartening. Apart from a bloke I know called Peter, who says he’s a fan but spent a good five minutes laughing at my plight when I saw him at the weekend.

Sorry, I digress. I was made to choose the route we did. I’m guessing the girls had decided they were doing an intervention to make me grab back control.

Or possibly, we’re all rubbish at saying where we want to run and spend a good five minutes every week going “ummmmm”.

I couldn’t really decide, so by committee we agreed to do the Greenway route backwards.

I was annoyed that I didn’t have my Fitbit, but it was a revelation.

I ran. I ran the entire way. I didn’t keep looking at my watch and thinking “Really? I’ve only been doing this for three minutes? It must be longer,” or “Oh dear, my pace is slipping. I’m not going very fast, that’s annoying”, or indeed, “Should my heart rate be that fast? Is that healthy? At what point does it go so fast that it explodes in my chest?”

It was one of the most glorious runs I’ve had in a long time. I was free from the tyranny of the Fitbit and could enjoy the run for what it was, rather than my subconcious nagging at me because Big Brother was monitoring.

Sometimes, you’ve just got to leave the technology behind and enjoy the sensation of running, rather than glory in the stats.