I dodge in and out of shop owners who are shutting the shutters and sitting in the shop. For some reason, my mind wanders to what I would do if one of the people suddenly turned round and stabbed me with a knife. Would the blade slide in nice and clean or would it require some "umph"? Would I be able to feel anything initially or would it be like the last time I tore my flesh open where it took a good 30 minutes until I noticed that my grey sock was red?

I should really not be allowed time to myself to think.

"Hey boss!" says a trader from his doorway as I run past. "You look like the sporty type. You want some gear?" I slow down and turn. "I got some new Nike Ts in today and I need to dispose of 'em quick - you want some?"

"Thanks, I would have some but does it really look like I've got any money on me?" I say hoping he hasn't seen my Maestro card digging into my hip from the inside pocket of my shorts and the £35 emergency money in my sock. "Anyway, I don't think I'd be able to carry it."

I plod on. The fourth mile looked the shortest on the map but it is taking forever. There must be a gazillion sets of traffic lights. I turn the corner and have the Mile 5 marker in my sights.

"Woooo! Woooo! Wooo Hooo!" says a cyclist. I stop and look suitably annoyed. "Do do do do you do a lot of r… r… r… running? Because it's very important that when stop at Traffic Lights or…… Pelican crossings - do I mean pelican crossings? Yes those are the ones with the buttons - that when you stop - Or you could have someone stop you for directions - that you always keep moving and stretching and moving to stop your injuries from coming on. Hamstrings."

Great someone has stopped me to give me advice about not stopping and keeping moving.

I get through Mile 5 and head off down to the final stint. I pass an unlit secluded back street with no overlooking occupied buildings and no CCTV. This street may or may not hold some form of significance to me and My Canadian Girlfriend.

I get a whiff of toothpaste on the air as I turn into the last mile. I see another runner coming towards me. It is vital that when you pass another runner you look as fresh and as keen as you did in the first mile. Show no weakness! My shoulders un-slump, my heads looks to the horizon and I pick my feet up turning my current shuffle into a run. As I pass him, I observe common convention and give him an over exaggerated "Nod". He nods back. 20 seconds later, we're both back to our depressing trudge.

And then without really noticing how close I was, I arrive home. I check the big clock near my house and realise that not only is it difficult to run without a watch, it's even harder to judge your run a success, if you didn't even make a note of what time you left. I make the assumption that I left about 57 minutes ago and crown this experiment a resounding success.

Next week, I think I'll add an extra level of crazy on top of this and go to the gym at the end.