I have officially fallen out with my body. It’s conspiring against me. The minor cold I reported a couple of weeks ago has not gone away. If anything, it’s got worse.

I’ve also developed a bone-shaking cough.

I’ve managed to struggle through work but the rest of my time is spent trying to sleep between coughing fits.

My spirit to go running is strong but my body is weak – I’ve been getting in from work, collapsing on the sofa and grabbing a nana nap before the husband gets in.

So it’s now more than two weeks since I’ve been running and I really miss it.

Apparently, I’m a nightmare to live with when I haven’t been out for a run. Who knew?

Sam has been supportive in her own way when I’ve cried off the BodyFit sessions.

She’s told me to go for a walk instead. I’ve agreed with her, then had another nap.

Tracy, my work colleague who is a proper runner, keeps being worried about me and nagged me to go to Workington’s access centre last Tuesday.

Off I duly trotted and the lovely nurse listened to my chest and said: “Yep, you’re congested. Here’s some antibiotics.”

I feel so rotten, it’s reached that stage where if I wasn’t writing this column and had the added fear of peer pressure, I would probably give up the running.

Thanks to the great support network of the girls (plus Alistair, Austen and Jon), I can’t give up. I’d be hunted down.

But for the first time during my short running career, I can see how it could happen.

I’m now two weeks-plus without a run.

When injury has stopped me previously, I’ve panicked about putting weight on, but that’s not an issue at the moment as I can’t really face solid food.

In fact, I’m thinking of marketing my new diet – Weetabix in warm milk – as a quick-fix solution to help you drop a dress size or two in a week.

(Before Sam faints with horror – don’t take me seriously. It’s not a sensible way to lose those pounds and not good for you in the long run.)

I’m still feeling lousy and I know my fitness levels are going to be shocking when I do return to it, so the lazy part of my brain is saying “is it really worth going back?”.

I almost feel like a beginner again. It’s not fair that you lose the benefits so quickly.

The bit of my brain that I have christened Sam (it shouts at me) knows that it is worth it and I will but I can see why gym memberships lapse and people drop out of the running classes.

Everyone needs a Sam – either the real version or an inner one – I think, to chivvy them along. At least I do.

I met up with the girls on Saturday morning and to see if I could manage.

I forget sometimes that I run with at least three nurses, a healthcare assistant and several mothers – they took one look at me and told me I wasn’t going to even try.

I’m glad I didn’t in the end as the three-mile slow walk I did instead with Margaret nearly killed me and I came home and slept.

My inner drama queen is now wailing ‘will I ever run again?’

It’s never straightforward, is it?