An early morning run. The sea is quiet now, the sky dark over the sea, sunny over the hills by Lewes and mackerel to the east. A couple sat on the shingle at Splash Point, eating sandwiches, a curious activity at 6 in the morning. They greeted me. A fisherman sent his son back to his house to replenish his flask of tea.

Twenty miles to go to reach a hundred, and five days in which to do it.