I should have done something unusual for the last day, wrestled a yak, swum the Hellespont or climbed the Shard (the new skyscraper going up by London Bridge, a modern Tower of Babel if you ask me). But I ended with a whimper, not a bang, with a little cycling, six miles all told.
Looking back, when the idea of Janathon was mooted, I thought it impossible. How would it fit with marathon training? How could I manage something athletic every day, in the longest, dreariest month of the year? And yet here I am at the end, having, with the exception of some days when I have medical certification, managed it for every day, mostly running but also cycling and swimming. I feel much better for it.
There is the small matter of a sestina that I promised JogBlog, but which I fear has not yet been written. Perhaps a Pindaric ode instead? All Janathoners are in JogBlog's debt. We prostrate ourselves before her.
