I wanted to count this morning's exertions as my Juneathon effort—I was tossed in a RIB by the waves of the English Channel, laying and pulling up buoys for racing marks and rescuing, rather maladroitly, a couple of sailors. I came ashore soaked and with aching shoulders, but while it passes the time, it doesn't really count for Juneathon. So this evening I decided to run, in the pouring rain; it was quite pleasant, in a nostalgic sort of way. Tomorrow, I run the Worthing 10k.
