So the first Saturday of Juneathon arrived and with it the realisation that the wind is, indeed still blowing. From the north-east, too. When did we inherit a prevailing northeasterly? Maybe when global warming switched off the Gulf Stream, I suppose…these dirty scandanavian airflows have a lot to answer for, not least of which is the dry couple of months that’s ruining everything English.
But was I worried? Not really, I guess. After all, my day wasn’t going to consist of a cycling commute.
Instead I did a bit of painting then popped out to buy a paper on the cycle. A loop that meant 2 miles to the paper shop followed by 8 miles to the local 60p egg house and back. Other egg houses are closer but this one’s about 50 yards up a lane behind a pub so has little passing traffic and thus keeps things cheap. Perfect for the tight walleted among us, even if it is 3.5 miles from home. And the eggs are amazing…yellower than a yellow thing after a saffron bath, tastier than an egg has any right to be. With no regulatory egg stamp etc, someone will probably tell me I’m risking all sorts of illness…I’ll reply that they didn’t have stamps a few years ago and the fitter amongst the population thrived. If my time’s up due to a tasty eggy treat then so be it.
Which left me short of a run.
A bit more painting before lunch followed by an outing on the motorbike to assess more motorcycle gloves in Maidstone got me home just before an unexpected visit by my brother and his ever growing family (4 kids must be enough for any couple, isn’t it?!) threw plans into the air. I was about to go shopping before a jog but the shopping idea went flat and the run was looking like a round trip to That Evil Shabby Chav Office to buy some milk in order to allow a meal out to be shoe-horned into the evening.
Until inspiration struck. Not entirely the best placed inspiration.
I ended up climbing on the mountainbike for a trip to the milk shop and back which made perfect timing to allow a run to become the mode of transport to the local eatery. Myself and JB have been promising to visit The Good Intent pub in Aldington Frith for some food since it has become an almost traditional stop-off after a long cycle ride on a summer afternoon due to the position and placement of the lovely beer garden. Combined with some first class ale. Tonight, my plan was to run to it while JB left a little while later on the bike with some jeans and a top in the basket for me to change into once I’d finished sweating. The thought of a jog back seemed almost inviting, so innocent was it.
Well the 3.2 miles there was fine. Not ideal given the wind but better than cycling. Spot on 8 minute miles saw me not too sweaty and reasonably fresh as I bought 2 pints and waited for Cathy to arrive. Which she did. So I got changed and got another pint and ordered what was to be a delightful 10 oz steak with superb trimmings including a pair of ace onion rings.
The hiccup came about half an hour later with the thought of a heavy stomach and an imminent jog.
I have to say I think I did quite well to start with. A steady pace saw the first mile pass with ease, if a bit of a stitch forming. The second mile saw a slowing with the knowledge that my bovine filling wanted to have an encore. 2.4 miles saw me call enough and slow to a walk for a few hundred yards to preserve my food. And a jog/walk followed by a walk for the last half mile saw me home with a full stomach but an odd “not happy” feeling. Lots of burps and yawning but fully settled, so all in not a disaster but not a mode of pub return I’ll be pursuing voluntarily in the future, I’m afraid!
1071.05 miles to go.
106.63 Juneathon cycling miles
11.6 Juneathon running miles.
Feet and legs all ok still. Yay!