"This country is my canvas...."

"...I leave paint trails as I go. I'm painting a picture you can only see from outer space". According to Frank Turner, who was obviously dreaming up Janathon when he wrote it. I'm confident that this is the only rational explanation, because it's too much of a coincidence that the lyrics define my Janathon so far, and pretty much sum up my running, but also, when I'm running well, it's the perfect cadence for a compact trail runner like me (okay, so I so it's only 90bpm - but I do move both legs per beat).

Tonight, it never sounded better, running under a clear sky with a full moon, and never more pertinent:

It occurred to me today that if I overlaid all the routes I've run in the last eighteen days onto the same map, it would probably look a bit like Mr Messy, but with Mr Tickle's arms. Maybe about four arms actually, possibly with a few spare bits laying around.

I figured I might be able to connect a couple of those dismembered limbs to the Messy middle, which suits my OCD proclivities, and tonight's run was part of the process.

So I drove to Farnham Station with a heatproof-bag (explains why later) and caught a train to Guildford, from where I hopped onto the underwater Wey tow path heading south, until I reached the footbridge that marks the crossing point of the North Downs Way, whereupon I turned right.

Okay, so maybe I'll leave some for later

Run run run run run. Tonight I got completely lost. Not in a navigational sense, but in a consciousness sense. And it was great. Totally zoned out, mind wandering, as I just relaxed into miles of natural running. This is a familiar trail for me, and tonight it was running firm considering all the wet nonsense we've had. Oak leaves are finally piling on the ground, just starting to frost over, which seems a bit weird after two weeks of mildness, but I had nothing to grumble about. My feet felt like they were picking themselves up, I just had to keep putting them down again.

Twelve miles later I materialise close to Farnham Station, jump into the car, unzip the heatproof-bag, and insert into it a fine example of a Special Chow Mein, courtesy of the Tasty House Chinese Takeaway, in front of which I had parked. Nothing keeps you motivated like a kitchen about to close.

Joined up thinking - joined up running.


Summary:
Today: 12.0 miles, 1:41 hrs, 1675 cals
January: 251.8 miles, 36:47 hrs, 34132 cals