There are many reasons why I run: to boost my happy hormones, to make sure the weight that I’ve maintained for the past 10 years, despite my lazy nature, doesn’t suddenly double as I approach 30, to try to counteract the bad health that seems to plague some of my family, to allow me to not feel guilty when I have three types of take-away in one weekend and – most importantly of all – because I can.

Having a week off of running because my ankle was playing up made me annoyed. Running has become a part of my life now – not always a welcome part – but a part all the same. It’s something I do and something I identify myself with. Being unable to run because of injury is a rubbish situation to be in.

Luckily for me, this time a week’s rest has done the trick and my ankle seems to have gone back to normal, so on Sunday I felt confident enough to go for a run. I tried a new route which took me two miles before heading up a long but not-too-steep hill. I managed the hill with a short walk half way up it and again at the top. After five minutes of so of running I hit another hill. This time short but fairly steep.

As I began my accent I passed an elderly lady walking with a zimmer frame. I dug in and ran up the hill before having to stop for a short walk at the top. As I began to jog again I approached roads that would take me quickly back to my front door. I wanted to stop, to turn down the side roads and be back at home on the sofa – but I didn’t stop.

I carried on and added a 2-mile loop to the two miles that I’d just run. As I neared the end of my loop and got close to home I again passed the elderly lady. She’d made it a couple of hundred meters further down the road and up the short, steep hill that I’d run up.

Hopefully, one day I’ll be old too. My legs, joints, feet will start to cease up and it will be harder and harder to walk, let alone run. So for now, at least, I will continue to run – because I can.