Layne Beachley and the beaches

It isn't every day you bump into a genuine living legend and I don't think it is overstating it to describe 7 times world surfing champion Layne Beachley that way.

The big toe was fine this morning but I was feeling a bit bleugh; the constant humidity that I am constantly belly-aching about is starting to drain us all. But today was a no-brainer choice. Bryce was turning two and his party was in Newport. Drive there with the family, they drive and I run home along the Northern Beaches. Shouldn't take too much cocking about to turn it into a one way 25km run.

The only downside was that I'd be setting off at around 12:30 by which time it was pretty damn hot and still quite humid, I guess around 80%. I felt reasonably well hydrated, if a little underfed, slapped a load of sunscreen on greased my nipples and crotch and then watched as Sal and the girls drove off in air-conditioned luxury, heading home for a sleep. I must be out of my tiny fucking mind. Oh well.

The idea was to run along Pittwater Road which does not have too many great views. However it soon became apparent that the km were turning over a little too quickly and I'd need to add a couple of kinks. Simple enough, at mona Vale I turned east and ran closer to the ocean. Got some nice views too.

Despite the sunscreen I was a little concerned at the heat and sun and was glad when it clouded over a little. There were a couple of drops of light rain, but nothing that cooled me down. At Dee Why I did the maths and figured that heading back to the beach and the into Manly would get me the distance. I wasn't really enjoying the miles at this poit but I was enjoying the fact that they were ticking over. Hot and with something that felt a bit like a shin splint (left leg) I was glad of the brief rest I awarded myself at Freshwater. I was 17km into the run, on a boardwalk over the rocks by the ocean and I had just passed my Juneathon total. From here on it is uncharted waters.

I rounded the headland to see a surf carnival on Freshwater beach that means I could not run across the hard packed sand but needed to go through the soft stuff - really not at all what I needed and I'm glad "Freshie" is a small beach. I got to the zig-zag steps on the south side and thought sod running these.

A couple of zig zags up I glimpsed a surfer behind me who looked a bit like Layne Beachley. Around the next zig zag I stopped to find that she looked exactly like Layne Beachley. At a sweaty 18-and-some-km in I must have looked pretty as a picture as she trotted up behind me, board under arm. We had a brief chat, I told her I thought she was an inspiration and had done great things for surfing. She said she never tired of getting compliments, wished me well for Janathon and I trotted on, a bit of a spring in my step.

Dropping down to Manly the spring did not last long as I picked up the stock loop in reverse. I cut the corner at the southern end of Manly beach. When I got to the Middle Harbour side I actually felt cold. Oh dear; the reserve tank is empty and I have about 4km left. It was slog home from there, but I made it to the end of my road at 24.5km, which really was enough.

At home I was a bit of a mess. The shoulders looked to have survived the sun but I suspect I made a schoolboy error by not putting sunscreen on top of my head. I was wearing a lightweight running hat all the way, but I'm not convinced of its SPF. I threw down fluids, had an Ikea meatball and branston pickle sarnie and some liquorice. I put a sweatshirt on to deal with the goose bumps.

Looking forward to icing the left leg tonight and getting to tomorrow. All about the numbers now. Monday and Tuesday are no brainers, tomorrow is make or break. Just need to stay on task.