Make a little birdhouse in your soul

When I only have weekends to run in the daylight they start to take on far too much significance. From the middle of the week I think about it, just so that I can be certain that I will make the most of the day. Everything is invested in this one run. It must be perfect.

Well, there’s nothing like putting pressure on yourself is there? If everything did turn out perfectly, this would be great, but if the run’s not perfect (and inevitably it isn’t) then I feel let down and miserable. Or even worse than that, I spend so much time tying myself up in knots about going out at the perfect time on the perfect route, that I don’t even get out of the door…

Today I wasn’t going to fall into that trap. Today was all about running a familiar route and appreciating it. This is what caught my eye…

There were lots of autumn leaves...

...and lots of sheep...

...and some very serene swans...

....and the Green Man in the playground...

...and even more leaves...

...and the view that always tends to lift my spirits when I run this way...

...and of course, the aforementioned birdhouse.

A few weeks ago, PeopleRun wrote about rediscovering your running mojo and included my contribution – Run somewhere different, preferably somewhere scenic. Only about half a mile of today’s run was somewhere scenic, the other 5.5 were on the road, running (for the most part) the same routes that I hack out time and time again. I do stand by my own advice, but wonder if maybe sometimes it’s a question of looking around you and appreciating what you see?

PS. After my last apologetic post, abradypus asked that, if I found my missing running mojo, could I send some her way? I’m not claiming to have rediscovered mine (just as one swallow doesn’t make a summer, one run does not make a regular training routine), but I hope that this morning’s run helps both of us.

Fighting fit for Juneathon

This weekend I’ve truly had an athlete’s preparation for the forthcoming hell that is Juneathon. Let’s just say that it started with a sausage butty and has just ended with a chippy tea. In the middle, I’ve shovelled a tonne of gravel, had 2 trips to the tip, been scared witless by a 3 year old’s birthday party (but did enjoy the fire engine cake), listened to the Archers omnibus (oooh, that Pip) and been up to my elbows in compost. It’s been lovely.

On Sunday morning, I went out for an earlyish 3 mile plod around the village. It was a bit breezy, but the sun was shining and after sitting on the loo reading about the dangers of multitasking, I decided to make it a bit of a mindful one. I stuck with the tunes for the boring bits of the run (I find the sound of my lungs a bit off-putting) and trundled around the lodge taking in the sights and sounds.

Only two hours to go until it’s officially Juneathon… It’s a bit daunting that there’s so many participants this year (67  on the official list when I last checked over at Juneathon Central) and I don’t envy Iliketocount who has the unenviable task of judging the whole malarky. Good luck people!