So, it is all over. The beginners’ course finished, the 5k Parkrun completed.

I could easily hang up my trainers and call it a day.

I’ve proven to myself and you all that anyone can do that running thing.

And yet, I can’t quite do it.

A week without a run is like a week without coffee. Unthinkable.

There’s something lovely about the fact that I have a proper hobby – and it’s not cake.

So I’ve signed up for the intermediate class.

Sam will tell me off at this point as it’s not really called that any more, we should call it coaching for all.

It’s like the cute way she now separates us: “Fast runners here, faster runners over there.”

It didn’t half confuse me the first time she did it as there was no ‘slow’ category.

I know, Sam, I know, I just have to think back to where I was 13 weeks ago.

It upsets me deeply though that everyone else seems to be getting faster and I’m still at the back.

But deep down, I know it’s a mind over matter thing.

And although it sounds like a love-in, everyone is marvellous.

This week, I was tag-teamed by Sarah and Judy (both so much faster) who kept me going.

There’s even a really fast bloke (never caught his name, he’s always going past at high speed) who has a smile and an encouraging word to say.

On Thursday, I ran for 50 minutes non-stop and while I hated the first 20 or so minutes (it was hard), I got such a buzz out of it at the end, it was worth it!

I was doubly impressed with myself as I’d completed the Cancer Research UK Shine 13.2-mile walk in London on Saturday night.

That was an emotional experience but it did make me chuckle as I made everyone stretch like we do in class.

It was my first medal too and probably my last – although I keep being threatened by Sarah and Judy with races.

Another milestone was the purchase of Lycra.

I was having a low moment (why am I doing this? I’m rubbish etc) and Sam recommended getting technical clothing as it would help me physically run better.

I think there was a bit of pyschology going on there too.

I was scared there’d be nothing in my size in the shops and didn’t want to go down the online route as it was too confusing.

Hey, manufacturers, fat girls run too!

But I need not have fretted.

Not only did the Workington shop have stuff, I got into a smaller size than I thought I needed.

So look out Cockermouth – you will see me pounding the pavements in a natty pair of combat running “tights” (see, there’s the proper jargon) soon.

As soon as I’ve plucked up the courage to wear them outdoors.

If nothing else, they’ll stop Sam seeing how slow my legs are going.