Plan A – Go for country park run with the running club at 8.00, home, shower, nip into town. Plan A failed.

Plan B – Go for a country park run in a different park that I’ve never been to on my own, home, shower, nip into town. Plan B failed.

Plan C – Go for a run in the village, home, shower, nip into town. Plan C failed.

And so Plan D came into action, which is how I ended up going to the bank dressed in my running kit and accessorised with my handbag. At one point I put my bag strap across my chest, until I realised that it was possible to make the running kit/handbag outfit look even more ridiculous.

After I’d been to town, I decided that as I was out in the car I may as well go somewhere interesting and ventured to a spot of the canal further down than I tend to go. Although it was generally a grey day, there were patches of blue sky visible and at one point the sun was so bright that I couldn’t see the difference between mud, puddle and edge of towpath. The sunshine didn’t last long and it felt as if the day was still trying to get going – the sun must have still been up there, but it didn’t seem to be doing a great deal.

As far as the running went, it was a bit of a stop start affair. Partly to take photos, partly to negotiate the mud and partly because I felt a bit lethargic. I put this down to the previous 7 days, but on the return stretch I realised that I had developed an affliction I call “Bear-paw hands” – basically a cock up with hydration – which would explain why I felt rubbish.

Still, I did see a teeny tiny horse

I also ran listening to a debate on whether philosophy is dead on The Infinite Monkey Cage podcast – my brain melted at 2.68 miles, but at least I finished the run slightly more educated and with slightly muddy feet.

Day 8/31 –  3.1 miles

Ferrero rochers burned*

As we finished our sociable run last night, we found ourselves surrounded by althetic types clad in lycra and hi-vis. We were also clad in lycra and hi-vis, but were a slightly less convincingly althletic sight (if you can imagine two oversized black puddings stuffed into trainers, that’s me in my tights). They did their stretches and we basked in their reflected glory so that any passer by might think that we part of this elite group.

I am in fact a member of a running club anTwitter / Home d (hilariously) have an England Athletics membership card that claims that I am an athlete. Despite my membership I haven’t done much club running except a frozen trail run at the end of November, however the club is doing a series of ‘Boot Camp’ runs every day from tonight until Monday and I opted in to one  tonight. It was described as “mainly downhill”, which should have made me nervous as it suggests that there will be a substantial amount of uphill as well. There was.

Oh and my garmin took a while to get a signal, so my pace is a bit skewed (well that’s my excuse).

Day 7/31 –  3.5 miles

Ferrero rochers burned*

*EXACTLY 6!

Today started badly and went downhill from there. Work is quite stressful at the moment, but it’s only in the last 24 hours that I’ve realised that it’s built up a little too much. Last night’s yoga meditation was interrupted by thoughts of work, which had the bonus effect of stopping me falling asleep, and this morning’s escapades sealed it for me.

First priority this morning was getting another Janathon wash on the go. I managed this, but managed to bundle in the cardigan that I was meant to be wearing. Alternative cardi found. Work shoes located. Off I go. A mile up the road I realise that I have my dinner, I have my bag of running kit, but I don’t have my work bag. Too late to return home, I have to manage without it. In the event, this didn’t matter as I spent all afternoon trapped in the office trying to resolve one urgent case that was trapped within a series of public sector catch-22s. By the time I left work (40 minutes late), my head was full.

Cue a bit of Dusty in the car, 28 miles up the motorway singing along (badly) all the way, and out for a sociable 3 miles with my mate. I’m not looking forward to tomorrow, but I feel less like I’m teetering on the edge.

Day 6/31 –  3 miles

Ferrero rochers burned

Today was the day that I was dreading. Wednesday night is yoga night and so Wednesday morning was running morning. The alarm was due to go off at 5.45 (to factor in some essential faffing around) and in true Juneathon style, I woke up an hour before it was about to go off. The upside of this was that I got to hear a bit more of Test Match Special, the downside was that I was awake at 4.45. There are two 4.45s in a day? What’s that all about.

When it was eventually time to get up, I listened to the swoosh of passing traffic on the rainswept  road and thought “Ah, a refreshing run through all of nature’s glory – how wonderful and uplifting”. That’s a lie. I listened to the swoosh of passing traffic on the rainswept  road, made sad whimpering noises and thought thoughts that use bad words.

I still went out though. A 2 mile rest day in a lopsided figure of 8 (the sort of with a small, wonky head and a morbidly obsese body. All my 8s looked like that as a child, I had very poor motor skills, but I digress) run quite fast (for me) because it was cold and wet and dark. I saw a milkman, a dog walker and a man at a bus stop.

You know what? I quite enjoyed it.

Day 5/31 –  2 miles

Ferrero rochers burned