Looking back on a treasuretastic Juneathon 2012

So, what have I learned from Juneathon 2012?

If you’re going to do a daft running challenge that is hard enough to complete at the best of times, it sometimes helps if you add in a further layer of madness just for the giggles.
If I’m completely honest, I was a bit apprehensive about my seventh Athon. It gets a bit tedious running every day, especially when morning runs force you to run the same routes, and if it’s tedious for me running then it must be a bit tedious for any poor soul who choses to read about it. Doing my treasure hunt made me see my runs differently, familiar routes became more interesting because I was on the lookout for things and I was seeing my surroundings through slightly fresh eyes. Even if those eyes were looking for roadkill and interestingly shaped sticks. Basically…

Treasure hunts are ace
That’s it. Everyone should do more treasure hunts. I don’t care how, make it happen.

It was lovely that other people joined in looking for treasure
Throughout the month, other people spotted things from my list and blogged about them. It was great, apart from when people spotted things that I was struggling to see – then I sulked a bit…

At times I can get a bit obsessive about things
Ginge will testify to this. I think I realised that things had peaked when I was trying to see a fire engine, but was failing miserably. When I was young, the fire brigade would turn up to school fairs with an appliance and Welephant in tow so I thought I’d try to find an appliance by having a look at their twitter feed. I didn’t find any suitable events, but there was a cat stuck in a cavity wall mid-month. I’d love to say that this was me at my worst. It wasn’t. That would have been when I checked their feed, saw that there had been an early morning incident in the next village and found myself ruing the fact that I hadn’t been out for a run at 2.30…

I still love taking photos during my runs
Even if I do end up taking photos of discarded underwear in the hedgerows.

If you do something every day for a month it becomes a habit
Alright, so google tells me that it’s actually two months, but after 30 days of looking for stuff, I can’t get out of the habit of crossing things off the list. Which is why, if you go running with me and we pass a cat, I will mutter ‘cat’ under my breath. See also ‘pink car’, ‘baby swan’ and ‘bloody fire engine’.

Southerners trust people to pay for eggs
When I was running close to home, I regularly spotted signs advertising eggs, but no one leaves the eggs out on a stall with an honesty box. I’m not sure what this says.

It always helps if you have a willing idiot volunteer to join you on these escapades
Thanks Ginge!

Sometimes you have to let the fates take matters into their own hands
If we hadn’t had tent issues on day 22, I would have carried on trying to run every day on holiday. I’ve done this before and it’s ok, but missing a day’s run and walking instead gave me permission to walk on other days as well, thus freeing me up to relax and enjoy myself.

Everyone needs to do a dressing gown dash
Preferably in Cathy and Shaun‘s back garden. In fact, I propose that during the next Athon we all conspire to do some kind of mass flashmob arrangement round  at their’s. In matching dressing gowns. That’d surprise them.

If you ask people to suggest ideas for a treasure hunt, they will range from the sublime to the ridiculous
In the thirty days, I spotted (albeit loosely in some cases) 76 out of 80 items of treasure. I didn’t locate:
A thunderstorm – I’ll admit that, while were camping, I was a bit relieved about this. Sorry Morning of Magicians.
Dr Who with an iguana – Nope. Even googling for all the Doctors with an iguana didn’t come up trumps (and I had high hopes for Peter Davison what with him being a vet and everything). Sorry Cathy.
A Manchester tart – I would have loved to have found one of these, I made one for Ginge’s birthday last year and they’re rather nice. I thought that I might be onto something in a Kentish butchers because they sold gypsy tarts and Eccles cakes, but there was no time to implement a selective breeding plan and create a custardy offspring from the two. Sorry Adele. And Ginge.
A giant rabbit (preferably wearing a bow tie and/or a top hat) – I did have the opportunity to clock one of these whilst watching the South Sydney Rabbitohs on telly on July 1st, however it was too late and a bit too terrifying. Sorry Karen.

So that’s what I’ve learned from Juneathon 2012. It’s been bloody lovely, thank you all (especially Cathy/JogBlog/Queen of the Athons without whom we wouldn’t get sucked into this ridiculousness).