Knees don’t seem to have suffered from yesterday scrap around the woodchip. They’re no worse, anyway. Still the odd twinge when going downstairs. Calf ding is still there though, as is the snot.

I book an appointment with the osteopath at the RCJ gym for tomorrow, am thinking about booking in with one of the many sports medicine people round Fleet St based on what he says. After a week of dicking about with internet self-diagnosis, I need to see what some professionals say about the knees.

Basically, unless I can stay healthy and start upping the mileage soon, this marathon attempt might be over. I cannot run the full distance without putting in the weekend long runs, and I cannot put them in if I’m not at least 90% fit. This weekend is crucial. Is it? It’s heading that way. It’s shades and degrees. It’s not impossible at any stage, but it always looking worse.

It’s crossed my mind what would happen if I pulled out. All the money spent, apart from the tax on the air ticket if I decided not to just go to New York for the weekend, is unrecoverable. It’s spent. Everything else is owed to myself, and I don’ t really want to dive into myself and work out exactly how I feel about it yet. My dream. There is the matter of the charities, which would be a wrench. This sort of thing is why I decided to leave the money-raising element until the very last month.