Bring me sunshine – Polaroid Blaze sunglasses review

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One of the other good things about our holiday down South was that we saw some real, actual sunshine. Alright, so the wind broke our tent before we’d even got it up, but at least it wasn’t raining all the time. Whilst we’ve been lucky enough not to any floods (although some nearby villages have) it feels as if we’ve been living in constant drizzle/downpour for months. I even experienced actual joy at being able to put two loads of washing out to dry yesterday. This is not good.

Real actual Kent sunshine
(photo credits to Ginge)

Before our trip, I did manage one run wearing my new Polaroid sunglasses (it was during that all too brief two day heatwave back in May) but since then it’s been more flipper and snorkel weather round our way. Anyway, this seemed an ideal chance to give them more of a run out, so the sunglasses went into the bag (along with Miles and every single piece of kit that I could corral the night before we set off).

Polaroid Blaze

The first thing that I noticed about the sunglasses is how incredibly light they are. So much so that I keep having to rattle the case just to make sure that they’re in there. Lightness in the box translates into comfy on the face – most of the time I completely forgot that I was wearing them. There’s no movement or bounce when you run, they’re a nice snug fit and there’s no gap letting in sunlight at the bottom of the frame. I also like the blue tint that allows me to sit inside staring at the sky and maintaining blissful denial that it’s grey and miserable outside.

As a bit of an experiment, I gave them to Ginge to try on. The arms of the glasses have a bit of a springy stretch to them and even though they’re a good fit on me, they also accommodate the size of Ginge’s bonce (this is not to say that he has an abnormally large head, it’s just that I have quite a small one). Ginge declared them to be really comfy and better than his Oakley sunglasses in that they let in less daylight. Unfortunately he also declared them to be pink. The official description is “striking red hot flash mirror lenses” and they are in the women’s and the men’s sunglasses section of the Polaroid website, but he wasn’t convinced.

Technically they are excellent, looks-wise they’re maybe a little too dynamic for me. I feel that they should belong to someone who is lean and tanned and toned, powering their way along a rugged trail run whilst wearing the briefest of Lycra. To give you an idea of contrast, I am writing this with the sunglasses on my head whilst wearing an elasticated waistband, drinking a brew and wondering whether to eat half a red Bounty. I can dream can’t I?

Looking back on a treasuretastic Juneathon 2012

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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).

What I have (not) done since Juneathon finished

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There are some cast iron certainties in this world and just as night follows day, Juneathon is always followed by a short hiatus from blogging. And sometimes running. This year is no exception. After we got back up North (the memory of sunshine rapidly fading as we headed further up the M6) it was straight back into work, domestic stuff and of course another trip to the big city for the Juneathon picnic.

As always, it was lovely to see Jogblog Queen of the Athons (who would like a late credit for giving me both pub and rhino in my treasure hunt AND for letting us in on the best rhino spotting site in Kent), and picnic stalwarts Hels, Shaun, Jimmy and Rachel, as well finally saying hello to Praddles at Borough Market (luckily I had been swept clean of pastry crumbs after devouring a Ginger Pig sausage roll that was as big as my head) and meeting the legend that is Tom Roper (who claims that we plied him with wine and flapjack. This is absolutely true).

Whether or not I have run enough to offset the amount I consumed whilst occupying the Hyde Park bandstand is another matter. Basking in the Kent sunshine, I was full of enthusiasm for the half marathon training that I would face on my return home – I even went so far as to scribble some (gasp) goals and a vague training plan to see me through to October. I’ll admit that the plan looked like a far more appealing prospect from a week and several hundred miles away. I think I can claim to have gone for quality over quantity with a nice seven miler (it’s been a while since I’ve done more than six) and some more actual hill training (which was more enjoyable than I expected. I probably wasn’t working hard enough). The worrying thing is that I bought Runners World to read on the train down to London – maybe it’s my theorist tendencies, but as soon as I purchase a copy, I tend to stop running as if the mere presence of the magazine in the house will compensate for a lack of actual exercise.

Tomorrow then sees an early run (because after work it’s time for my guilt-free biscuitfest courtesy of the nice Blood people) and a chance to ponder and reflecct on what I have learned during Juneathon 2012.

Juneathon 30/30 – The hunt is over

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On the final day of Juneathon I decided to do a loop around the campsite without being able to remember how long a loop it was. Turns out that it was shorter than if I’d done the out and back that I first thought of. So I added a bit on and made it 3 miles.

And then I got back to the tent and not only did I discover the meaning of life…

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…but there at the side of the tent was the bloody Ark of the Covenant*!

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Which was nice.

*May not be the real actual Ark of the Covenant**

**No Lego mini figures were harmed in the making of this blog

Juneathon 29/30 – feel the fear and do it anyway

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I hope you all appreciate the anxieties I’ve been overcoming so that I can find all this treasure. I’ve become fairly shameless at photographing people’s property, things in bins and knickers in hedges. Today however was an entirely different kettle of fish. I know I’m not alone in feeling panicky when it comes to walking or running through farmers’ fields, even when then there’s a footpath – I suspect it’s the knowledge that you’re at risk of annoying a man who is likely to have a shotgun license.

Today was my fault. Kind of. When I saw that trig point had been added to the list, I had to do a bit of research to find out (a) what they are and (b) where I might find one. I learned that they come in different shapes and sizes, they tend to be up hills and it appears that there are people who go round photographing them as a hobby. I quite like that we live in a world with people who do things like that, partly because it makes me feel better about doing all this palaver.

Having identified one not too far away (and convenient for another bit of treasure), I printed off a map, which somehow has survived the journey down and a week in the tent. We navigated our way to a probable field by applying my OS map reading knowledge, skills (and I use the term loosely) that have been untouched since second year geography. Decades have passed since then, so I was quite proud of being able to use landmarks to navigate us to where the thing should be. After quite a lot of tramping, we deduced that we were in the wrong field and should have been in the one next door.

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Unfortunately we couldn’t see a way into the next field, so off we went looking, determined that there had to be a way in. Way in located, we set off round the edge of the field, fighting the temptation to say sod it all the way. Just as we were about to give up, old eagle eyes spotted something on the horizon. There it was in all its concrete glory.

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This does not do any justice to the amount of back and forth toing and froing that was involved in finding the bloody thing. I took Miles with us and all together we clocked up a 3 mile walk. With hindsight, I reckon that around 2 of these were done whilst traipsing fruitlessly through fields…

After all this excitement we went hunting for rhino and were rewarded with a glimpse through the leaves.

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Finally, we took advantage of being up a big hill in order to admire the scenery from a viewpoint overlooking fields and sea.

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And after all that, we just have one more day to go!