I had scheduled a training run for tonight but am instead watching the rain drip from the trees and railings outside my house. It's a nice evening otherwise: the air smells clean and the rush-hour traffic has subsided.
So here we are: Test Number One. All day I have watched with delight the rising total on my fundraising page and looked forward to the buoyant pace I would set after work. I've received several affectionate and encouraging emails, some from the most unexpected sources, alongside the pledges of hard cash and I am thrilled that my adventure has moved so many people already.
I'm running on Saturday morning with my friend Karen: we take it in turns to haul each other out of bed on weekend mornings and laugh at each other as we groan our way up the gentle hills of the local nature reserve.
But I should get a session in before then.
The rain is not easing and my husband is grey-faced and tense after another full-on day at work. I hear myself suggesting a Chinese take-away and bottle of wine to cheer him. Result: he perks up immediately. I am however stricken with guilt and a feeling of irresponsability.
As I put down the phone on Man Chui's perky delivery girl (wait time: 20 minutes) the rain stops abruptly and light emerges from behind the clouds.
(Or: Budger, as my two-year old said cheerily to me this morning.)
I resolve to set my alarm for 6am tomorrow. Honest.