The day began like most other race days – horribly early, 6.30 am to be precise, when my husband and I took the train from our home in Brussels, to Paris for the annual 20k race. As I was eighteen weeks pregnant, with an ever-increasing belly and a consequent slowing pace, this was to be my last race for a few months, and my long-suffering husband decided that in the interests of safety, he should run with me, despite not being the keenest runner in the world! [Read more…]