It's the third week of my training and I've hit the proverbial wall.
It's not the mental 'wall' marathon runners say they hit after running 22 of the 26 miles. It's more of a brick wall of self-satisfaction, smugness and apathy.
After last week's schedule - three runs and a hour's six-a-side football - I felt I deserved a break. The only problem is, four days on, I'm still on a break!
Friday night was spent with a couple of beers watching Sport Relief.
In medieval times, thieves and vagabonds could seek sanctuary in a temple or church. I've decided Friday nights are my sanctuary from exercise. A can of Stella can run riot on nights like this without any reproach or recriminations.
I also watch the end of Eddie Izzard's four-part documentary charting his 46 marathons in 51 days.
It's a tale of courage and determination, pushing the body and mind to the limit.
Eddie sheds a tear as he crosses the finishing line back in London. I feel proud. I've only followed his journey through four one-hour documentaries, and I feel exhausted. God only knows how he managed to run 1,100 miles.
Who would have thought transvestite Izzard would join my sporting hero list of Kenny Dalglish, Ian Rush and Steven Gerrard.
Torrential rain, and Saturday came and went, although my lack of a run had nothing to do with the weather. Sharon cooked roast beef with all the trimmings, and apple crumble and custard, all washed down with champagne for Aldo's 21st birthday. A calorific catastrophe for anyone preparing to run 10K - but worth every mouthful.
I'm on a shift on the sportsdesk all day Sunday as Blackburn hold Chelsea to a 1-1 draw. That's another day without a run.
Monday and Tuesday follow the same pattern: Up at 7am, work by 8.30am, home at 7pm. By the time we've eaten, it's 9pm and far too late for a run.
The most exercise I've had in these two days is running to the car to avoid the rain, and being forced to dance in the kitchen to Cheryl Cole's Fight for Your Love by daughter Jenny.
Last week's training schedule worked because I had time away from the office. Burnley face Blackburn this weekend, and it's all hands to the pump.
My problem is going to be able to find any time to squeeze in a run.
The lads in the office suggest I get up at 6am, and go on a Rocky Balboa style run before setting off to the office.
I'm considering it. If this is the only way to clock up the miles, I might have to set the alarm for the crack of dawn.
Perhaps I'll sleep on it...