MY legs had returned to their normal level of function by the weekend, and although they wearied mid-way through the second half of Saturday’s hockey match, I felt sprightly enough to go for a run in the hills on Monday.

Powered by a roast pork dinner the night before, it went quite well, despite not having been out on the roads for more than three weeks.

But the consequence of this was that when I rocked up at Paragon the day after for what turned out to be my only session of the week, my calves seemed to be about an inch long.

As it happened, this was easily solved with a bit of technical calf-stretching kit which involved heel-drops with weights resting on your shoulders.

Once this was sorted, it was back to the weights, and Stephen steadily increased the amount I was lifting on the frame until it was a full 15kg more than the week before.

By the end my quads especially were on fire, but generally speaking, it felt okay.

We then alternated split squats carrying 6kg hand weights with the glute-ham machine.

This felt like disappointingly hard work, and we talked nutrition. After I admitted to having soup for my lunch and tea the night before, Stephen explained that the lack of carbs is probably the reason for my floppy state – and when I think back to what I had for tea the night before hockey, it probably lies behind my second half struggles on Saturday.

Plenty of food for thought there.

After this it was over to the astro-stip for more walking lunges, and once again the music was putting me off. It seemed to be Pop Hour At Paragon, and after starting with Bon Jovi (It’s My Life) as I came in, we were now onto Cheryl Cole.

I like Wor Chezza as much as the next person, but trying not to topple over sideways when your legs are like lead as she yarps on about someone-or-other calling her name is tough.

I managed my three lots of walking lunges, despite now getting far less recovery time than in my previous sessions.

It was then onto the weights-sled, my 100kg friend who usually reduces me to a breathless lump of jelly. I dragged it backwards up and down the strip three times, again with noticeably less recovery time.

All the way through the session, Stephen was explaining to me how it’s about getting your body used to the stress, so it knows how to deal with it, and can recover more quickly.

Even though I did an almost identical session last week - which left me unable to walk for the best part of two days - I should be nowhere near as bad this time around, he told me.

And, whisper it quietly, he’s right. My legs know they have worked, and over the next 48 hours I can certainly feel it in my muscles, but on the whole, I’m okay. I even went down some stairs earlier without wincing.

This feels like definite progress.