I’m back in a rather hectic London after a heavenly weekend away with my family. We spent four days in North Yorkshire for a wedding combined with country walks, country runs and plenty of alfresco eating.

It was the wedding of two of my favourite people in the world: Matt is one of my oldest and closest family friends and one of the most outdoorsy people I know. He is the only person that I’ve ever met who carries a whittling knife and hammock around with him at all times, (just in case), and who, when I travelled with him, managed to make sleeping on the streets of Geneva, in a refuge in the Italian alps and on mattresses on the floor of an attic in the Czech Republic, seem like a wonderful adventure. It was perfectly fitting, therefore, that the wedding was similarly outdoorsy, in an enormous tepee complete with fire-pits and gourmet BBQ in the Yorkshire countryside.

We fell in love with Matt’s wife, Ruth, the day we met her. Not adverse to donning an anorak and getting lost on a walk with our family, she fit in straight away. Although she would undoubtedly protest at my gushing appraisal, I can truly say she is one of the most amazing and inspiring people I have the honour of knowing, (and pretty damn beautiful to boot!). I will say no more than to refer you to her blog, Dez’s Demise and to urge you to read.

The wedding couldn’t have been more perfect. From the dress to the decor and from the buttonholes to the BBQ, everything was so carefully thought out and so full of Matt and Ruth’s personality.

Delicious mixed deli boards followed by sweet potato cakes, washed down with raspberry vodka and sloe gin (courtesy of the allotment of one of the best men) and of course plenty of champagne, meant that, even after a night of dancing, I still felt guiltily stodgy on Sunday morning.

A five mile country walk followed by a six mile run made me feel a bit more like myself.

Although not the longest of runs, the tough terrain of waist-high grass and nettles, tractor tracks, muddy fields and (accidentally) the garden of an unsuspecting Yorkshireman, all in 20 degree heat, meant that I was put through my paces.

The route was set by my Uncle Alastair, who also happens to be the dad of my marathon training partner Becks and I can now understand how, on her last run with him, they ended up being chased by a farmer welding a gun, as ‘the way’ and ‘the path’ bared only a loose relation to the route that we took. Still, it was really good Tough Mudder training and certainly got me thinking about needing to up my training on different terrains to get ready for race day.

Back to London and with post-weekend blues and the guilt of one too many veggie kebabs and gin and tonics I went on two runs on Tuesday, an 8.7km at lunch followed by 7.7km after work.

Today I plan to climb and hopefully fit in some abs training tonight and to ensure I’ve paid my penance for a perfectly decadent weekend!