Got my shoes and kit packed, my passport looks roughly like me, some gels and bars to top up the fuel tanks? Can I really be ready?
Thursday's strange sunshine saw me in the glistening meadow, jogging and testing the legs. This could be the last warm sunshine for 100 million miles or more, so I had to make the most of it.
We shall travel to damp Ireland, where Wilma's Whimper showers the roads with warm Atlantic.
I don't feel supremely fit and full of boundless energy. Some of my muscles don't behave athletically (or perhaps stiff and twitchy is athletic). Some of my nerves are fighting the others, and I've having difficulty doing simple tasks like matching socks and counting t-shirts.
I keep coming back to thinking of Mile 20 in London. The long windy road around Docklands. Come on, walk to that post, then run a bit more. You'll be fine. Go on!
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