Running, ah running, we have a bit of a love/hate relationship going on. I hate doing it but I love how it makes me feel afterwards, I get a buzz knowing that I’ve been outside and done some exercise. I first started running when I was living with my sister in Putney, London about ten years ago. Around this time, I was eating really badly, gorging on wine, cake, pasta and cream and despite knowing that I had quite a serious muffin top, I was massively in denial. I weighed myself one day and nearly had a heart attack, as I saw I was tipping the scales at around 10 and a half stone. I’m a fairly small, at 5ft 3, so this didn’t sit well on me, literally. I made the decision then and there to go for a run. Possibly not the best decision at the time as it was a really hot day and I just about made it to the end of the road without my head exploding, but I made it to the park eventually after much sweating, huffing and puffing, and from that day on I tried to go running at least twice a week to get my bod fit.