There was around 9 hours between last night’s run and this morning’s run.  I knew I needed to run in the morning because I had something on after work and not running would be a Juneathon fail. It felt as if the alarm went off about ten minutes after I had fallen asleep and I could barely peel my eyes apart to swipe at the snooze button.

Basically, the morning went something like this:
NOISE!!!
Scrape eyelids open, paw at alarm, snooze.
NOISE!!!
Scrape eyelids open, paw at alarm, snooze.
NOISE!!!
Scrape eyelids open, consider turning alarm off, realise that inevitably I will fall back asleep and wake up too late to run, paw at alarm.
Continue persuading eyelids to stay open, consider matchsticks, consider whether standing on my head would force them open like turning a doll upside down does, realise that I have never been able to stand on my head, discount this idea, focus on standing up.
Find running kit, apply in correct order checking that every item is the right way out and the right way round. Say good morning to Ginge, whinge about Juneathon, lie down on the bed, realise that this a bad idea, close eyes, realise that this is an even worse idea.
Venture downstairs. Put Miles on his bespoke satellite locating stand wheely bin. Find shoes. Ensure shoes match. Apply shoes to appropriate feet. Curse Juneathon. Locate camera. Locate shuffle. Have a quick drink. Leave house, lock door, fasten Miles to wrist. Return to house, unlock door, pick up camera. Leave house, lock door. Unlock door, pick up shuffle. Leave house, lock door.
Spot treasure in car park. Silently praise Fairweather Runner for putting treasure on the list. Run half a mile, loop round, run back. Consider rounding up my mileage. Realise that I am tied to the tyranny of Miles’ demands. Break free of the tyranny of Miles’ demands. Be satisfied with 1.33 untidy Juneathon miles.

I have rarely been so pleased to find 5p

I have to run at 6 again tomorrow. Oh dear.