The things I’ll do for a medal. Yesterday my legs felt like lead, and if anyone had offered me the merest hint of an excuse I’d have curled up in bed again and refused to come out of the duvet nest. But I’d entered a race - the River Thames autumn half marathon - so out of bed I got. I actually entered it months ago, promising to pace a friend. She couldn’t do it, but it seemed a shame to waste the place, so I slogged my way round 13.1 very weary miles. That’ll teach me, if nothing else, never to be complacent about the distance: 13.1 felt more like 33.1.

Still, my complaints are strictly limited to my legs, tired after a fairly heavy week (at least compared to recent efforts). The weather was good, the race itself very well organised, cheery marshals, some familiar faces, and I even had a nice chat or two with some fellow runners. Oh, and the goody bag contained not one, not two, but three chocolate-based treats. One of these went to my youngest, who, while I was trudging around the Thames, ran her second fastest ever junior parkrun. Hang on, now I think about it, that’s two people who didn’t need me to pace them this weekend ...

So, over to you. Anyone else fishing out some more wintery clothes for the first time? I stepped out of the house this morning for my run commute, and promptly stepped back in again for another layer. London, at least, seems to have gone from vest and shorts weather to base layer and leggings in a day. As always, share your weekend triumphs and woes below the line, as well as hints as to what on earth I might have done with my running gloves ...