Sunday was the first day of Janathon, a festival of running and excuses. While I have managed the running or exercising part, I have failed lamentably on the blogging part. This post must serve several purposes, therefore:

1. As a summary of the first week of marathon training, with fifteen to go, eight of them without benefit of the fermented and distilled juices of grapes and grains. I ended the week having exceeded my quotas. I should have run 15 miles this week; in fact I did 17.92, though in fewer runs than specified. I now know again the familiar tired-all-the-time feeling of the marathon runner in training.

2. As an account of Sunday’s long run. I fact it was a run of three parts, a four miler over Seaford Head, the traditional Seaford Striders New Year’s Day run from the Martello Tower to the sailing club and back, and a trot home. After the previous day’s Brighton ParkRun, I was far from fast, but what is they say about hard running on tired legs being the best training? In any event, the day was mild, and at the sailing-club end we called on the Shore Break café, though with no time for refreshment.

3. As an account of the second and third days of Janathon.

• On the second day I took myself, along with ‘Er Indoors, for a swim. Since our usual pool was closed, we went to Seahaven pool. We picked the wrong time: the pool was thronged with pensioners, and we were looked at suspiciously, as if we were insinuating ourselves into a private club. I am working on my endurance, following a training plan published in the Guardian a couple of years ago, but I find the early stages very easy. For this day I was supposed to swim 300m; in fact I swam 750m.
• On the third day I ran again, in ferocious winds. I was supposed to do two 1.5 mile fast runs, with half-mile recoveries, and a mile warm-up and cool-down. While I covered the distance, the 1.5 mile sections were far from fast. As I decided to go along Seaford seafront, at dusk, the first one was run into a head-wind, and when it was time for the second, I had shot my bolt. Other points of interest:
  • The light: as I ran by the sea, it was that soft, almost violet blue of a winter evening. When I came to a stretch away from street-lights, the moon and stars were bright and gave a light of a colour that defies description
  • I only met one other runner. In the brief moments as we passed, like dogs, we compared ourselves, one against the other. I scored points for wearing shorts, while he wore long trousers; on the other hand, in spite of the gale, he wore only a t-shirt, while I wore a long-sleeved base-layer and a rain-proof jacket. The issue was decided on speed: he was a lot faster
  • I thought about
    • the contrast between the wild sea on my left, and the human world of street-lights, roads and cars on my right
    • a dream that came to me last night, in which an ex from long ago invited me to her house. When I arrived she presented me with a screwdriver. What can this mean?