I went downstairs in my running gear at 6:45 this morning. Just before reaching the door, I picked up a copy of The Guardian and started to read Steve Cram’s piece about Paula Radcliffe. Eventually, the drifting smell of fried bacon hit my nostrils, and that was it. Instead of running, I had a bowl of fruit and a yoghurt. Sadly, it didn’t stop there.… READ MORE.... …