Yesterday as I was on my way from a swimming pool to a spin class I bumped into a former colleague. We chatted away for a few minutes, me wondering throughout quite how severe my goggle marks were. As we said cheerio, me to go and work up a sweat on a spin bike and he to buy a sandwich on his lunch break, he suggested that we and another former colleague should meet up soon.

I pulled a face. I don’t like to make plans I have no intention of keeping.

“Oh, like that is it?”

I explained that while I wasn’t opposed to the idea, pretty much every hour of my life between now and 20 July has already been accounted for. Outside of running, cycling, swimming and leading my beginner runners on top of going to work, there really is very little time left in the week. This is why the pile of washing-up in my kitchen grows steadily between Wednesday and Friday – there’s not enough time to do washing-up every day.

I’ve become a master of utilising my time: running to work; waking up early for a swim before the sun is even up and doing one-legged squats while brushing my teeth. I’ve combined seeing friends with doing runs, having a beer after a track session or training together on the weekend.

Ironman training is like a hungry beast that needs to keep being fed and demands constant attention. And it’s having a weird affect on me. On my Monday rest evenings I’m finding myself at a bit of a loose end. Once the washing up is done and the food shop for the week is packed away, I twiddle my thumbs. My legs are glad of the rest but my brain wanders. Sometimes beer helps.

Everyone has stuff that’s important – going to work, looking after kids, having a shower. But there also is a lot of space in which you can fit in a swim, cycle or run if you really want to find it. Look down that back of the sofa – I’ve lost a lot of hours down there in the past.