In my quest to ran the 6min mile, I ran today for the first time in ages. After going round the block, my muscles were burning and my heart was racing and I felt the same high I feel after sex, so I was in a good mood. "Sexy Birbal, here I come."

I actually felt so good that I made myself breakfast for the first time in three years - I'm not a big fan of having breakfast; something about sitting at the table all alone depresses me to bits (more on that later). After my first breakfast in years, I felt good and happy and emboldened by this new lease on life.

Then I puked my guts out! Ah-ha! There it was, the kicker! Now my bones ache, my muscles are doing this weird spasm thingy, and I feel like I just fell six feet under - and this is just day 1!

Shit!