Whilst donning the necessary running tights, two top-half layers and my wooly running hat, I have time to reflect on how fucking cold it is in the UK.

I am back in the UK for only a short amount of time before I find myself, once again, disappearing overseas. This time trading my man hours for some work in Doha, running there is going to be fun!

9 months in the warmer climes and has been a slow, frustrating, acclimatization journey. The hilly terrain, frustratingly warm temperatures and air that feels like treacle to run through and more like a drink than a an inhale. So running in the colder northern hemisphere should be a little easier on the system but turning ones body around from a 20+ hour flight in time to get in some training runs before a race less than a week after one has landed, has proven a little tricky. True, I have run twice, nice distances and at a decent pace – but not nearly as frequently, fast or far as I planned, somewhere over central Europe.

The preparation for this race, however, is more psychological than physical. I know I can run 10K in a decent time, I ran a PB for 12K on a hot and hilly course 2 weeks ago. So it is just the cold and coming to terms with the fact that I have psyched myself up to run this ‘fast and flat’ course in less than 45 minutes. I am really struggling with the cold so my strategy for tomorrow is: the quicker I complete, the quicker I can warm my hands on a plastic mug of coffee.