Juneathon day… oh. Yes. Well..

Yesterday I made a decision. I haven’t exactly fallen off the Juneathon wagon, it’s more like I have waved cheerily to the driver in the rearview mirror and asked to be let out at the next layby please.

We’re due to go away and, whilst I have happily jogged and blogged from a tent for the past three years, I have decided that this isn’t the holiday for that. I don’t want to have to think about phone signals and battery life and trying to turn a the walk around a field into something that passes as entertaining.

So I’m not. I might post stuff if we do something interesting, but I want to crack on with my knitting and sit around drinking tea, so there’s no guarantee that will happen.

It also doesn’t help that last night’s pre-yoga nap turned into two hours of deep and dreamless sleep, which meant that I was unconscious and five miles away for the duration of the class…

I will try my best to keep up with all of your fabulous blogs while I’m away (or will feast on them when I get back) and wish you all a wonderful, excuse-filled,  injury-free rest of June.

PS. I have just been told that apparently I will “be back with a vengeance for Janathon”…

Medal monkey sends you his best wishes for a splendid Juneathon

Medal monkey sends you his best wishes for a splendid Juneathon

Juneathon day seventeen: token

If this was a running Juneathon, I would have run a token mile today. As it was, I still did a token mile. But it was walked. And split into two convenient bitesize chunks.

First up we had a walk up to see the midwife for my check up. All is fine and I am fairly certain that this is the first (and possibly last) time that I have Athoned with a tube of my own wee in my pocket. At lunchtime, this was followed by a walk from work up to the sandwich shop and back.

After work, we went round to mum’s to have a practise at assembling our new tent. Our old tent was on its last legs and the running repairs that we did last summer weren’t likely to hold up to another week away this year, so we’ve invested in a new one. It’s a lot more solidly built than the last one and is somewhat roomier (planning ahead for next year…). Assembling its colour-coded parts was a little Krypton Factor-like in places, making it both a mental and physical challenge.


If you’re a novice camper, I would heartily recommend having a test run of getting your tent up. Preferably before you go away. Preferably where no one can hear you scream.

Juneathon day sixteen: Alcatraz

Today was another watery day. One of the local pools opens at 7.30 and somehow I managed to be in the water by 7.45. I had been expecting it to be pretty quiet, but it turns out that at that time of the morning it’s full of of a more mature demographic (to quote my manager on our Christmas do “It’s like Cocoon in there…”).

I ploughed up and down doing my usual 24 lengths (but in a 2 x 10 +4 format, instead of my usual 6 x 4), taking a break after the first ten. As I lounged and did some strange underwater stretching things that I always do in the shallow end (despite them having no purpose at all), one of the more mature ladies hopped out of the water with a grace and agility that I can only dream of (when it was time for me to leave, I heaved myself onto the side and then had to roll over into a standing position). As she dangled her feet in the water, she told me that, until last week, she hadn’t swum for thirty-odd years.

Apparently she does a lot of walking, but fancied something different. Her first love is golf, but apparently when you get to her age, all the ladies are “all crocked with new hips and new knees and spondylosis…”. We had a bit of a natter and she finished off my telling me that they didn’t bother with swimming lessons when she was young (“…about a thousand years ago, before the war…”) you were just chucked in the water and got on with it.

Even though swimming is just a question of getting chucked in the water and getting on with it, these days it doesn’t count unless you have an app for it. My app of choice is Splashpath (which also has a desktop version). Basically, it’s a database of swimming pools, some of which have the pool timetables available (all of mine do, which is really handy) and you can record your swims dead easily.

It also has challenges… You can record your swims to show how far you are along various waterways and the like. At the moment I have completed 55% of my swim from Alcatraz.


Apparently I’m aiming at the Golden Gate Bridge, which seems a slightly daft escape route as this clearly isn’t the nearest point on the shore.


Given that there no one is known to have escaped Alcatraz and survived (and that it has taken me over a month to get this far) I don’t hold out much hope for this being an effective plan for the future.


Juneathon day fifteen: bouncy

Today has been a day of two halves. After waking up late, I spent the morning on call at work willing the phone not ring and catching up on some paperwork. The afternoon was spent getting under my mum’s feet and playing pram vs boot at the baby emporium.

I had to pick up something for tea on my way home and was struggling to think of what to fit in for tonight’s Juneathon (I suspected that if I went home, I would sit down and not want to move for the rest of the night). Then it dawned on me that I’ve been carrying round a tesco carrier bag full of gym kit for the last few weeks, the gym is only on the other side of the car park and I could squeeze in a quick half hour before going home.

Unfortunately, the only bit of kit that I was missing was my shuffle so I decided to take this opportunity to observe the narrative arcs of the videos that I normally ignore on the telly (it was some kind of Chart Show Dance thing today).

I was spoiled with the first one (I believe it was Chase and Status – Let You Go). This was some kind of cautionary tale about a Jeremy Kyle-like presenter. It was quite tuneful and there was a proper story. I grew optimistic that the next 27 minutes weren’t going to be too bad.

My optimism was short-lived. I’m not sure what the next one was, but it featured some men with beards who occasionally DJed for lots of nubile young ladies. What did I learn from this one? Miami is a town in which a woman must wear a bikini. Possibly by law. I wanted to lend one of them a cardigan. Or some comfier pants.

The next one. Hmmm. I couldn’t tell you a lot about the music. It appeared to be about a man in a blouson jacket being mesmerised by stuff he encounters; a magically self-playing piano, a mirror ball hanging in the street, some fag ends floating in a urinal… He then gets into a car with a man he doesn’t seem to know (what this is teaching the young people about stranger danger, I have no idea). As a sub-plot, another man buys some beer whilst wearing a hoodie – with the hood up. That would never be allowed to happen in our local Spar.

Next. Something about free-running. Very poor example of road safety involving backflipping across a zebra crossing. Where is the Tufty Club in all this?

Oh god. I didn’t know that it’s possible to lose the will to live in 3 and a half minutes but it is. I say 3 and a half minutes, I have only learned this since coming home, at the time it felt like at least a week. This one involved some very clever, subtle metaphors about, ladies, ahem, bouncing on meat. The man spinning pizzas on his decks (as Ginge later pointed out) looked like he could run a kebab shop, but somehow had ensnared attractive young women to pogo up and down on kebabs whilst only wearing their skimpies. The tune was less of a tune and more like industrial noise (at one point I was genuinely concerned that the air-con had broken). It was all hideous. I spent those three and a half minutes veering somewhere between Germaine Greer and a spluttering retired colonel. I suspect that I am not the target audience for this type of thing (google “laidback luke feat. majestic” if you’re intrigued).

After all that the Technicolor bouncing that was seered onto my retinas, the next one was nice and muted and featured two men driving through the desert in convertibles. Despite apparently owning a convertible, one of the men seemed to like singing in front of a caravan and yet at no point did we get to see him towing his caravan. I felt that this was a missed opportunity. There was yet more poor road safety as one of them drove across some train tracks, narrowly avoiding an oncoming locomotive.

Daft Punk. Blessed relief. I decided to go out on a high.

Overall I have learned that today’s music videos mainly centre around breasts and poor road safety. I also learned that going from my usual tunes and Radio 4 requires a more gentle transition that this. Or not at all. Oh, and that being no oil painting (or at least being a somewhat abstract oil painting) is no barrier to men being surrounded by surgically-enhanced lovelies clad in a few brief square inches of fabric.

Oh and I did 30 minutes of cardio to distract from the pain.

Tonight's tea seemed like a suitable illustration after the evening's viewing...

Tonight’s tea seemed like a suitable illustration after the evening’s viewing…

Juneathon day fourteen: intermittent

At around three this afternoon monsoon-like conditions greeted me as I peered out of the office window.

I texted Ginge – “I may need a canoe to do Juneathon”. .

As I ran out of the office at 4.15, I was greeted with blue skies and a hint of sunshine. My hopes started to raise.

Ten minutes later, the sky grew darker and as I pulled into the petrol station the first splat of rain hit my windscreen.

In the time it took me to fill my car, the splat had turned into a downpour.

So tonight’s Juneathon has been a mix of activities squeezed in around the weather.


1. Sprint – A rain soaked dash from the front door across the road to the post office so I could catch them before they shut.


2. Weight lifting – Heavy books needed to go back to the library


3. Resistance training – I was strong and avoided being lured into the chippy on my way home


4. Distance – Admittedly not a long distance (it’s about a half mile round trip if you squint a bit) but I walked briskly to the library and back, and was rewarded with a lovely bit of librarian chat while I was there.

I may even do some stretches later (if Ginge puts my cup of tea slightly out of reach…)