The Rat Race

Deja vu time today, since this week's work schedule meant a day trip to the office, and an almost exact copy of Janathon Day 4 from a fortnight ago. Those who've embraced Janathon in all its masochistic glory will appreciate that any opportunity to bag a few cheap miles is worth snatching; particularly on those days when work, family or lethargy mean there isn't much day left at either end.

But I've come to the painful conclusion that this is a tough way to pick up another fourteen miles, for a number of reasons:

Yorkshire. Home of puddings, tea and a pretend-London-eye

Firstly, there's a rucksack involved. Once again today, 4kg for the first seven miles, 7kg for the last seven. Carrying two laptops does horrible things to your running. Carrying one laptop is bad enough. Hats off to anyone that does a daily run-commute with the company dumbbell.

Secondly, there are four train journeys in the mix, and the process is the same for each one... and not dissimilar on reaching the office (albeit there's are some ablutions involved there):

1. Run to station paranoid about missing train. Arrive with much relief and panting.

2. Collect tickets, check departures, wait for train, produce rivers of sweat. 

3. Board train, squeeze into seat between offended people.

4. Profuse head/neck sweating as body temperature soars. Try not to look like a drug addict.

5. Eventually start to cool down (now wringing wet). Put on windproof coat and trousers.

6. Start getting really chilly. Hood up, occasional shiver. Try not to look like a drug addict.

7. Start warming up again. Try not to look like a steam iron. 

8. Regain normal body temperature. Remove coat and trousers. Try not to smell like a laundry bin.

9. Alight from train at jogging pace. Try to look like a runner.

10. Repeat until funny.

And finally, because going for six runs in a day is actually really hard. The legs never get going for long enough to settle in, and never stop for long enough to recover. They feel like two huge obstinate sausages, 70% twinges, niggles and aches, with the remainder mostly rusk and weakness (whatever rusk is). By the time the final train arrives, depositing me a measly two and a bit miles from my front door, I've inevitably had a serious sense of humour failure, and the only reason I don't have little cry is because there isn't a drop of moisture left in the dessicated husk that used to be my body. 

On every other Wednesday in January I remember why I bought a folding bike. 

Today's stats: 14.7miles, 2:10hrs. One serious sense of humour failure, and about three knees.

Janathon total: 180.2miles. You can view my maps and stuff here