MAD though I may be, I am running in this year's ADT London Marathon. And there are only seven weeks to go. But now I've said it, I guess it's official and there's no going back.
I bet some of the 35,750 who have been accepted just can't wait. They are regular club runners who love the camaraderie, the wind in their hair and the aroma of Ralgex on their legs.
But others, like me, will be filled with a certain dread. I was an occasional runner who thought it'd be nice to run the Marathon. Nice? It's going to be hell. In fact, it already is. Doing it according to How to Run Marathon books means that ambitious first-timers, like me, should be doing about 30 miles a week by now.
For Gavin, who is my other half, this will be his sixth marathon. He-who-should-be-obeyed, as far as marathon advice is concerned, keeps telling me how far I should be running, how fast and how often. But I usually tell Marathon Man to take a running jump. Me exercise before breakfast? Before work? Please.
I find it easier to run home from work (about five miles to Clapham). Believe me, it's the fastest way. Rather than wait for the bus or the tube and get stuck in traffic or in tunnels, it's quicker to run. Well, jog actually. I suppose you could hardly call what I do running. But this way, keeping fit doesn't take up any extra time. At least I can get home quicker to rescue our nanny from our two-year-old twins. And I'd rather spend evenings with them than at a gym. Hence I have had to start running - sorry, jogging - in the mornings, too.
Not only does this take will power but it also means master planning when it comes to dress. For working runners this can lead to the Oh-no-where-are-my-shoes distress syndrome. It can be quite traumatic to arrive at work to realise you only have your trainers to wear and you are lunching at Le Caprice.
Do I have a towel for the shower at work? Where's my make-up? Do I even have any clothes there? It's a case of rotating what you wear between home, work and the cleaners, and hoping not to be left knickerless. I remember arriving one day to find that our Junior Fashion Assistant, thinking it was a sample, had sent my suit back to its designer.
The great thing about fashion now is that clingy catsuits, leggings and bodies are great to wear for running, especially as comfortable under-layers in the cold. Sometimes I wear a catsuit to work with a short wrap skirt and then swap skirt for running pants, thermal top and Gore-tex jacket. I believe that looking good is as important as being practical.
There's nothing like an appreciative hoot from a passing lorry driver to make you leg it down Queenstown Road. Mind you I wouldn't dream of going across Clapham Common in the dark. What with both of us running and twins who wear more food than they eat, I just pray to the god of electrical items that the washing machine won't break down.
Weekends are a good time to make up miles. Lie-in? What's that? A forgotten pleasure before twins anyway, and now out of the question. It is best to go out jogging early because the best laid plans of mice, men and joggers are usually kyboshed by events such as weekend shopping. But I have managed to do a 20-mile run at the weekend. Yes, it hurt. And, yes, I know there are 6.2 more miles to do for the marathon. (They say the 0.2 is the really hard part.)
Most people at work think I'm totally mad. When it's a cold wet evening I think they're probably right. Why am I doing it? Certainly to keep fit. Although I don't really need to lose weight, I like being toned and, at thirtysomething, gravity and I are fighting for control of my body.
Also, when I do a long run I feel great. Afterwards. There's nothing quite like that virtuous feeling and the knowledge that I have 24 hours of lazing which not even Marathon Man can make me feel guilty about.
And I'm doing the Marathon because, like Everest, it's there. Also, for a good cause - I shall be running for the Tommy's campaign. St Thomas's Special Care baby Unit looked after our twins so wonderfully for three months when they were born prematurely.
I don't think I'll ever match Liz McColgan, who won the 10,000m in the world championships last year only months after giving birth. But I would quite like to be Superwoman. You know, the type who can have a successful career, perfect children and run marathons. I shall probably end up as Superwreck. Watch this space.