Juneathon Day 30: The End.

Well that’s that then, another Athon completed and signed off. It was a fairly understated finish, no dramatic extra miles tacked on like last year. This was just a 3 mile loop accompanied by Ginge and a gentle sense of relief that life can get back to normal.

Holiday jogging has been surprisingly enjoyable (new places, some gorgeous views and the pleasure of Ginge’s company on a few outings).
Holiday blogging has been both a pain in the arse (trying to keep an iPhone alive in a tent is somewhat challenging) and lovely (being able to post photos).
Holiday logging has been non-existent (far too fiddly and battery sapping). I’ll log the last 10 days when I’m home tomorrow, but I think I’ve done 101 miles all together.

Tomorrow I will be taking my cue from the Folkestone Mermaid and will be mainly sitting (although I will be fully clothed and in a car).

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After that, I suspect that there will be a couple of days off before contemplating half marathon training (having investigated the hill at the end of the Folkestone course I suspect I’m going to need it. It’s a bloody big hill) and the next canal adventure.

In the meantime, I see an ice cream in the offing…

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Juneathon Day 29: of desserts and deserts

The first mystery of today was who or what had gnawed a lump off our camping cake. Whatever it was had shunned everything else on the shelves and chomped its way through the sacrificial end slice (kept to keep the face of the loaf from going stale) and this much of the rest. We’re trying not to dwell on the possibilities.

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Yesterday was spent out towards Dover and Folkestone, initially enjoying a gorgeous day, but then eating our sandwiches on top of the White Cliffs while watching lightning spear down from ominous dark clouds over the channel. We also had a potter round some of the Folkestone Triennial exhibits, particularly the Folkestone Mermaid and the sea monster at the library. Tomorrow we’re going back to follow the Triennial seagull trail some more and possibly investigate this bloody great hill that lurks at the end of the Folkestone Half.

Today though, I have run in a desert. I’m reliably informed that the shingle landscape of Dungeness is technically a desert environment. It’s a strange and beautiful place.
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I did 3 miles out from the new lighthouse, down the road past Derek Jarman’s garden…

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out to the lifeboat station, back up the road, round the old lighthouse…

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and then a bit of twiddling about to round up to 3.

Ginge is fishing, but as yet hasn’t caught us anything for tea.
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Juneathon Day 28: Against the clock

Yesterday I half charged my phone via a kind relative’s laptop. Yesterday I forgot to turn it off at night. Yesterday we went on the little train from Dymchurch to Dungeness. Yesterday we met up with Cathy (JogBlog) and Shaun (I like to count) for beers and the most enormous portion of food I have ever encountered.

Today I have run 2 miles round the farm. I have 4% battery left. It has already ticked down from 6%. I better count my cornets quickly.

Juneathon Day 27: In which I am a bit daring

This morning I woke in the slightly unpleasant environment of a hot and clammy tent. Unpleasant this may be, but it is also a very positive sign of good weather ahead. Sure enough, at 7 o’clock it was already hotting up outside so I thought I better get my run out of the way. Given the temperature, the sunshine and, most importantly, the fact that no one knows me round here, I decided that this should be the maiden voyage for my running shorts.

It was quite pleasant feeling the breeze on the extra inches of exposed thigh, but the swishing of the fabric and the net knickers arrangement may take some getting used to. Reports of several sheep being blinded by the whites of my legs have yet to be confirmed.

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Juneathon Day 26: Seaside and towpaths

This is what I did yesterday. Sigh.

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With fresh clean kit we decided to brave the mists that had descended overnight and had a pootle down to Hythe front for some sea air.

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Just after a mile and a half heading towards Folkestone, we spotted the start of the Royal Military Canal. It seemed rude not to have a canal running away fixture so we did the second half down the grassy towpaths of a waterway built as a defence during the Napoleonic Wars. There were also ducks.

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