My knee was a little troublesome today, but when I came home in the evening, changed into running kit, and readied myself to go out to the Seaford Striders evening run, I found my leg swollen, clearly oedematous. Running didn’t seem like a good idea. I wonder when it will?

Has it only been four days? It seems so much longer. Tonight, after the journey home on a number 12 bus.on which I nearly fell asleep, no mean feat, I went out for an early evening run. The first mile or so was hard, though my legs moved a little more fluently than yesterday. Then,…

Running with the gait of a duck with a rupture, I managed two miles. My knee didn’t like yesterday’s eight miler, though not the knee I injured last year in Glasgow, puzzlingly. Maybe I put extra stress on it, trying to protect the other. It was a beautiful evening. A few late strollers enjoyed the…

I am very behind in my Bach cantata listening. Here we are at Trinity Sunday, and I’m still listening to the Whitsun ones, including ones for Whit Tuesday, oddly. Nevertheless, Juneathon proceeds apace, with eight miles here, out to the Cuckmere, the beach spotted with bodies, past the Golden Galleon and along the banks of…

In fact I am in England. Non-runners, or even runners with no interest in Juneathon, will be deserting my blog posts and tweets in droves, as I run every day of the month, and blog about it. Much as I grumble, it comes at precisely the right time. I am in something of a rut,…

Consummatum est. Juneathon is over, and I achieved my target of a hundred miles, reaching the total with six miles early on Saturday. The longest and hardest run of the month was the Seaford Half Marathon; the only other race was the Worthing 10k. The most enjoyable was a new route for me, a section…

I have two runs to report, and they leave me just six miles away from my target of a hundred. On Juneathon the 28th I returned from a long hot day at a conference and exhibition in London to find Seaford about ten degrees cooler. I took myself around Seaford Head, where I found an…

Fog, thick fog at 5 this morning. As I went to bed the night before, the Newhaven fog-horn sounded intermittently. Apart from a cyclist, I met no one else during three miles. On we go, seventeen miles till I reach one hundred. This evening, I thought I might attempt a dressing-gown dash, in tribute to…

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…

Earlier in Juneathon I blogged two days running in one post, which drew a sharp ‘tut, tut,’ from Ms Jogblog, who oversees this festival of running and excuses. Today I shall do even worse, and bring together four days in one post. Juneathon the 22nd: a brief run after work, a mile or so round…