This is the point where my running regime usually falls apart. Three times now, I've started the same program, committed to training 10 weeks for a 10K and even pictured myself (smiling, sweat-free and svelte, of course) crossing the finish line.
But when there's any deviation from that plan, when a change from the ordinary happens - like the week-long vacation in Costa Rica I'm currently enjoying - my training goes sailing out the window.
It's a trip I've talked about for ages with my oldest friend - an adventure in Central America, a celebration of 15 years of friendship, and an escape from the Canadian cold.
I was nervous, however (as were my friends, family and colleagues, I might add). Once transported into a world of black sand, turquoise ocean and beating sun, would that pesky little race even enter my mind?
I won't lie: As I write this, there's a pina colada within arm's reach. A waiter in a straw hat and a questionable palm-tree T-shirt ensures my glass is never empty for long.
Lunch is 90 per cent guacamole, and dinner buffets dare me not to make a return trip (I never win).
But for the first time in my life, I packed gym shoes on a vacation. I printed the training program and placed it on my hotel nightstand.
I'll be honest, the first day I was supposed to complete a "35-minute run at a conversational pace" I opted instead to venture to a magical beach town called Coco with new Canadian friends. We danced into the early hours (I tried to convince myself it was a form of cardio).
But I have run three times in six days - once in the morning, along the coast (even at 7 a.m.), and twice at the hotel's gym, where Spanish treadmills take siestas, randomly stopping after 10 minutes.
Cross-training hasn't happened unless you'd count horseback riding through the rain forest, or zip-lining down a volcanic mountain.
Physically, I'm more than a little behind on the program. But mentally, I haven't given up.
I'm accountable now - because I'm writing it all down (the good, the bad and the embarrassing). I can see how far I've come, and how far I need to go (daunting, but not impossible).
I can't ignore the fact that May 1 is just six weeks away. So this time, I won't be derailed by the blips - even the slushy, coconut-flavoured ones with tiny umbrellas.