It’s been a tumultuous week in Hewitt-Cohen land – professionally and personally.

Running a business is often stressful and when work relationships fall over it can feel like a break-up of your own. Then there was this new website to launch.

On top of that, if you are living in a household of teenagers … let’s just say, if you aren’t yet, batten down or find a very thick skin before they turn 13.

It’s been one of those weeks where everything has crashed in on top of each other and it’s been hard to keep our collective heads above water.

So on Friday morning I had a sleep-in – 6am instead of 4.30am.

I’m not showing off here – I’m not an early riser by choice, I don’t get up to produce inspired works of fiction or clean the entire house before sunrise. I get up to drive children around, and it’s hard slog.

During the night the cat jumped on my face to get to the windowsill – twice.

6am came and I was awake. There were lunches to be made and uniforms to be found. Instead I pulled on my dusty running shoes, grabbed my iPod and headed out the front door.

And managed to shuffle through 4.18kms. In a prior life I may not have even recorded that distance, but boy oh boy was it an achievement this morning.

Not quite like riding a bike, I didn’t take off like Michael Shelley. It was more like falling off that bike. And getting back on. Again. And again.

It wasn’t a cracking pace. It was slower than the 36-40km stretch in my first ever marathon so many moons ago. And back then, at that point in the race I was hallucinating that I was Bob the Builder and just had to get to the building site – No. Matter. What. I may have been zigzagging across the road.

Mid-way through my less than elegant return to exercise this morning my thoughts took over. I bawled for about a kilometre. Then I sang out loud to Taylor Swift. I had many friendly hellos and nods from runners going the other way. They all no doubt felt quite sprightly in comparison.

But I made it home, injury free, and … I felt better.

I didn’t want to go, I didn’t love it while it was happening, but I felt better afterwards and a little bit chuffed with myself.

Not quite fist pumping “I’M BACK BABY!” chuffed. But chuffed enough.

Finding that one little way to make myself feel better changed  my whole whole outlook on the day. The teenagers left and we almost laughed about their antics. I bounced into work with a head full of new challenges and ideas.

Nothing looked anywhere near as bad as it had felt last night, or at 3am or even at 5.55am. Except maybe my legs.

And I’m back baby …