Some days I don’t want to go running. Though I want to have been running and to be able to tick a run off my plan, sometimes the thought of actually going out the door to run fills me with dread.

It’s probably a surprise to my runners that I feel like this. They assume that the person who turns up wind, rain or snow to cheerfully lead their sessions and encourage them to push a little more has no problem motivating herself to run, but that’s not always the case.

I don’t have an unlimited supply of motivation. Sometimes it runs dry and I don’t want to go out running, even though I do want to have been running. There’s a conflict between the thing that I want to do in the moment (sit on the sofa and watch Netflix) and the greater thing I want to do (get stronger and faster).

On Saturday I really wanted to go running. I wanted to run hard for 16 miles and see that my fitness is back to where it was last autumn before I got injured. I prepared for this big run. I had a big bowl of gnocchi and rice pudding for tea, I had an early night and I woke up early, ready to run and excited for it. I knew it would be hard, but I’d prepared and I was motivated to run.

The miles flowed, the sun was out and I had company. I came home from my run buzzing from achieving the distance and pace I’d set out to, from feeling good the whole way and enjoying a couple of hours of being outside in the sunshine.

So it’s surprising that come Monday, when I’d planned a gentle 4-mile recovery run, that running was the last thing I wanted to do. I was in a bad mood, I didn’t want to leave the house and running was the last thing I wanted to be doing. I’d used all my motivation up on Saturday’s run, there was nothing left, the well was dry.

I laid on the floor in the hallway half-dressed and stared at my pile of running shoes. If I’d got someone to take a photo of this moment it would have looked really contrived, but it’s a photo that probably should have been taken. Because we all have moments like that. Being a runner isn’t all jumping, post-run smiley selfies and watch shots. Sometimes it’s laying on the floor unable to make it those few steps out the door.

I did eventually go for that run. There was nothing bad about the run but I spent the first three miles resenting it. We all have runs like this. You’re no less of a runner because you sometimes think you hate running.

So what advice do I have for runners who find themselves in this sort of funk? Not a lot. No magic potion at least.

My friend Liz Goodchild knows a bit about getting stuff done. She talks a lot of sense about building habits. Because motivation is fleeting but habits are what keep you going. So if on a Tuesday you always run to work, there’s less of an issue of you not feeling like getting out of bed and putting your kit on. If it’s Tuesday, that’s what you’re doing.

Likewise, making plans to run with other people helps. Being accountable to them and having it in your diary takes away some of that self-negotiation of ‘I’ll run tomorrow’ if you’ve made plans for today. My runners often tell me how much easier it is to turn up and run with the group than talk themselves into running alone.

Having a goal, something you’re working towards and ticking your runs off of a training plan works too. If each session on your plan is a step closer to a big shiny PB in a few months time it’s easier to see it as important and to quantify why, really, you do want to go running today.

But most of all, remember that you’re not the only person to feel like this.