Last night I dreamt that I was running through the countryside. I felt light and free and the running was easy.

I remember that I ran 9 miles (well it was 8 point something when I checked my Garmin, but I rounded up…) and that I thought “that felt so easy it probably wasn’t real”.

I like to think that my legs were going like a spaniel dreaming of chasing cats.

(My running stopped four weeks ago when I was 24 weeks pregnant. It was a natural conclusion after our holidays; a few more aches and pains, growing increasingly bumpy and, most of all, I hadn’t run for two weeks – I find it hard enough to get back after a fortnight’s break at the best of times. I have spent the last four weeks envious of other runners).