Juneathon Day 27 – Warning: Contains A Bit Of Swearing

This is what I posted on the Juneathon Facebook Page this morning:

Juneathon Facebook page screenshot

The clean version

When I said ‘scuppered’, what I really meant (and what David was referring to) was this:

Facebook status update screenshot

The slightly more Tourettes version


Yes, parkrun fucking well fucked up my fucking challenge that I’d been fucking looking forward to for fucking weeks.

*Non-sweary bit*

In case you don’t know what my challenge was, I’d challenged myself to run my local parkrun at 9am, then get to the gym in time to do a spin class at 10am. Although there are only two miles between the park and gym, given how slow I am at a) running; and b) cycling, an hour – although not impossible – would be cutting it fine but, as long as the parkrun started on time, my challenge would be completed successfully and I could spend the rest of Saturday walking around saying things like, ‘yay, go me and my successfully completed challenges’.

*End of non-sweary bit*

But, did it start on time? OF COURSE IT FUCKING DIDN’T. I got to the park with plenty of time to spare but the introductory talk thing didn’t start until 9:05 and instead of just getting on with it and starting the run, the bloke started doing the crappy clapping everyone thing and so I thought fuck it, this is going to go on for at least another five minutes, I’m going to the gym, as I don’t want to miss spin and so I fucked off from the stupid fucking parkrun and went to the gym and went on the rowing machine and treadmill instead before going to spin.

Stupid fucking parkrun fucking up my fucking challenge.



Running: 0 miles because stupid fucking parkrun
Challenges completed successfully: 0 because stupid fucking parkrun
Cycling: 4 pointless miles because stupid fucking parkrun
Rowing machine: 15 minutes because stupid fucking parkrun
Treadmill: 15 minutes because stupid fucking parkrun
Spin: 45 minutes. Yay for spin

Roosport Fitness Pouch

Last week’s parkrun was a personal worst. It was all going so well, too. My first mile was ran at 10 minutes something and I was thinking, yeah, bitch, I’m going to own this run, I’m going to nail it, I’m badass and well, you get the picture – I was doing okay. Then I got a tickly cough and the tickly cough decided to stick around, as tickly coughs are wont to do. I kept stopping to cough and stopping to cough and then an old lady runner came trotting up behind me and stopped and asked if I was okay. I told her I was fine and she carried on running and then my cough stopped and I started running and I’d almost caught her up and then I had flashbacks of my first ever 10k when I fell over a football and a girl picked me up and shouted at the footballers for me and then near the end, I overtook her and I felt really bad and I’ve felt guilty ever since (I have such a huge guilt complex, I should really be Catholic except that would involve me being Catholic and I don’t want to be Catholic and not wanting to be Catholic kind of rules me out from becoming Catholic. I think.) Anyway, here was my chance to recoup my karma. Recouping karma with a cough, yeah! So, I did the decent thing and didn’t overtake the old lady runner and kept behind her and stayed keeping behind her even when she was far far away and out of view because obviously I didn’t want to risk catching her up and undoing all that karma I’d just recouped. And because I’d walked leisurely around the last two miles of parkrun recouping my karma, my time was appalling. So this week I had to redeem myself and go faster. And go faster I did. By about three minutes, hurrah.


On today’s parkrun, I had with me a handy little detachable pocket that had been sent to me. It’s a Roosport magnetic pocket and it’s really cool. And the magnet is a ‘Yeah Bitch! Magnets!’ kind of magnet.

You get your finger caught in the Roosport’s magnet and you will feel as much pain as if you got it slammed in a car door. But, assuming you’re not a masochistic clumsy bugger like me and can manage to operate a simple magnetic flap, you need a Roosport if you have no pockets in your running tights or you want to carry a phone but don’t want to look like a dick by wearing it on your arm.

It’s got a zipped pocket for keys, cards, etc., and an open pocket in which to store your phone (it would have been perfect for me to store the little camera I used to take out with me in case I came across a cow-based photo emergency). It’s even got a little hole in the side for your headphone wire to come through, which would be perfect for those who use their phone for apps while out on a run. The reason for the magnet is so it attaches to your running tights. Genius! As I mentioned, I wore mine today at the parkrun, using it to keep my keys and barcode in (it came in handy for the cycle up to the park too, to keep my iPod in) and it’s comfy to wear and you don’t even notice it’s there. I’m sure you’ve got the gist of it, but here’s a short video so you can see it in action.

You can buy the Roosport from their website at www.theroosport.com

Juneathon 2014 – Day 21 – An Unofficial Parkrun

Hmm, yes, I can see now setting my alarm for 7am when I didn’t go to bed until 2am so I’d get up with plenty of time to get to parkrun was probably a tad optimistic. I totally slept through my alarm and although when I did wake up I could have rushed to get ready and got there on time, I prefer to take my time in the morning, so I cycled down to the park later on to do my own unofficial parkrun. Without the motivation of other people running nearby and without other back-of-the-packers to try and pick off and beat, my time was hideously slow – three minutes slower than the proper parkrun I did last week.

Still, a run is a run and a Juneathon done is a Juneathon done. Ha, I’m so poetic and deep. Feel free to stick that on a meme. Alternatively, feel free to ignore it completely and laugh at my feebleness instead.

Janathon Day 11 – up before 7

Despite deciding when I went to bed last night I wasn’t going to set my alarm and go to parkrun this morning as I had been up late writing and submitting an assignment, my brain had other ideas and woke me up early with the beginning of my dissertation proposal so I thought I’d better get up and write it down before I forgot it. Which meant I was up with plenty of time to get to parkrun.

If you were on Twitter a week ago, you might have seen a conversation between me and @TrevB1 where he said if he got a London Marathon place through his work, he’d do a long run in his tiger onesie and asked if I wanted to join him for a run in my penguin onesie. He suggested Guildford and so I thought, aha! I can’t get to Guildford, I can get out of running in a penguin onesie, so I said ‘sorry, can’t get to Guildford, can you get to Ashford?’ hoping he couldn’t get to Ashford but, alas, he said if he got a place, he’d come to Ashford. Bugger.

Unfortunately for @TrevB1 but fortunately for me, he didn’t get a London Marathon place, so if you came on here looking for pics of us running in our onesies, um, sorry about that.

What I did turn up to parkrun in this morning though was my Janathon t-shirt.


It didn’t get me a parkrun PB, but it did get some admiring looks (or I might have imagined that).

If you want to get a Janathon t-shirt or mug or something, there are some massive discounts at the Janathon Cafe Press shop at the mo, plus a further 15% off until midnight. I might buy some pyjamas; if they get here in time, I can do another Janathon pyjama plank.

Ashford parkrun


Always one to be fashionably late, I missed the first two local parkruns. This, of course, is patently untrue; I’ve never been fashionable in my life (peek in my wardrobe if you don’t believe me).

I missed the first one a) to avoid the word ‘inaugural’; and b) because, being a Londoner, it seemed appropriate to avoid the many tourists who were bound to be there, magnetically drawn – like a Chav to Primark – to that horrific ‘i’ word.

This is actually untrue, too. Well, partly, anyway. Shaun and I were driving down to Portsmouth later that day to take part in the Great South Run the day after, so we decided to save our energy for that.  But why let a little thing like the truth deny me the opportunity to moan about the word ‘inaugural’, tourists and the chance to use the ‘Chav to Primark’ simile I just made up.

Last week… well… that’ll be the bottle and a half of wine the previous night’s fault.

But, yay, today I got up bright and early and decided to cycle down to the local park where the Ashford parkrun is held. I say ‘local’, it’s actually a bit over two miles away but this is the countryside and anything within ten miles is local, unlike London where local means within five minutes’ walk and if you travelled ten miles you’d probably end up in zone four or, even – shudder – five.

I do like a bit of punctuality, it must be said, and it started at 9 on the dot. As is usual in the races I take part in, I was left on my own at the back pretty much straight away. This is fine with me as I don’t like a crowded race and it means I can just jog around slowly on my own listening to my music. As long as I can see runners in front of me so I feel like I’m a part of it, I’m happy. If I can see a few behind me, I’m even happier.

The route follows the same route as the Nice Work Ashford Summer 5K Series, so I knew the route and therefore prepared for a couple of laps of the park, which includes a gentle short slope which turns into a long steep hill when you actually get to it. Both times I stopped to walk up it until I told myself to stop being such a wimp and get on with it, although the slope is so short it had ended by the time I told myself to get on with it.

There’s not much else to say about it really. It’s a parkrun and you all know what a parkrun is. I ran round it in the fastest time I’ve done for aaaaaaaaaaaages, despite stopping to check the toenail on the big toe on my right foot hadn’t fallen off (it hadn’t, I think my big toe was just beginning to thaw out – it was a cold, cold morning) and stopping to let a dog walker decide which way he wanted to go past me (I’d have tripped up the speedy types in the lead who were on their way back from the first lap if I’d had moved out of the dog walker’s way. Annoyed? Yes. Did I tut at him and roll my eyes and mutter ‘FOR FUCK’S SAKE’? Hell yeah.)

I almost missed the finish line as I headed for what I thought it was, i.e. in between two tapes but the marshal was waving his arms and shouting something but in my dazed and confused state wasn’t sure where I was supposed to go (despite there being a big yellow sign with FINISH written on it) and the marshal pointed at his ears in what I am assuming was a ‘IF YOU WEREN’T WEARING AN IPOD YOU COULD HEAR MY DIRECTIONS’ gesture which actually pissed me off quite a lot as I can see and hear fine with my music on, I just a) get a bit dazed when I’m running; and b) need a new pair of glasses.

On leaving the park, I said thanks and goodbye to the organiser (I assume he was the organiser anyway, he had an air of authority about him) and he said ‘bye, see you next week?’ and I said ‘yes, of course’ which, in my experience, whenever someone asks will I be going to something again the next week and I say yes – I’m never to return. Shaun was at work today though, so he hasn’t been yet, so I daresay I’ll be making another appearance.

Thank you, Ashford parkrun – I’m glad you’re here at last.