It stopped. For long enough to finish my week in the Lakes and the second of two organised recce runs without waterproofs at any rate.
There was a final cloudburst to send the car aquaplaning between the trucks on the M6 on the way home. But southern England started to feel muggy and warm as soon as I turned onto the M1. By the time I reached London it was basking in sunshine and car fumes and I was already missing the clean air and open spaces of the mountains. I started to love London a few years ago. A city I never intended to stay in when I arrived in the seventies, it seduced me with its excitement, its culture, architecture and life. But I'll never breathe its air without it reminding my lungs of every cigarette I ever smoked.
I managed 134 miles in the Lakes, a good proportion of them walked (you try running up Black Sail Pass). I even got up to 5mph pace for a pack-free 15-mile jaunt round the Langdales from Ambleside to Coniston. Forty-nine of those miles were on organised events (the two Lakeland 100 recce runs and the Hawkshead 10k), so I'm now up to 754 for the year. It would be 1,269 if I counted training.
I'm finishing June with a bang, having put in a late entry for a 24-hour race near Reading this weekend. I need the extra training because I still feel I'm short on what's needed to complete the Lakeland 100. I'm going to try to get as close to 100 miles as I can.