Day 51: A Sunday Run Through the Kent Countryside

Today marked Day 51 of my London Marathon 2025 training plan, and it was time for a two-hour long run. As it was a Sunday, I had the rare luxury of a civilised start time—10:15 am—rather than the usual crack-of-dawn madness. The weather was on my side too, a dry February morning that practically invited me to explore the countryside around Sittingbourne.

The Road to Milstead (and a Breakfast I Didn't Have)

My route began with a steady climb through Highsted valley, leading towards Milstead. It’s the kind of hill that doesn’t look too intimidating until your legs politely suggest otherwise. As I ran through Milstead, the Red Lion pub caught my eye. It was open. It was serving breakfasts. The rich, inviting scent of bacon drifted towards me, whispering all sorts of deliciously bad ideas. But I stayed strong, reminding myself that full English breakfasts and long-distance running are not, in fact, close friends.

Milstead, for those unfamiliar, is a picturesque village in the borough of Swale, about three miles from Sittingbourne. Quiet lanes, thatched cottages, and the kind of countryside that looks straight out of a postcard—if postcards also included the occasional startled pheasant making a dramatic exit from a hedgerow.

The Turning Point

I opted for an out-and-back route, pushing on towards Frinsted before making the turn for home. That’s when I realised the first hour had been almost entirely uphill, a fact that had somehow escaped my attention at the time. No wonder my legs had been arguing with me. The return journey, blessedly, was far easier, and I took advantage of the downhill to pick up the pace. There’s a particular joy in realising that the effort you spent climbing one way is now repaying you in full, with interest.

Recovery and Reflection

Back home, a warm shower was not just welcome—it was essential. February has a way of creeping into your bones, no matter how hard you run. The rest of the day was spent recovering in the time-honoured tradition of Sunday afternoons: doing as little as possible while feeling vaguely accomplished.

The two-hour run felt good, and I know these Sunday runs will continue to grow in length over the coming months. The marathon still feels a long way off, but these sessions are the foundation. Step by step, mile by mile, it’s all coming together. And maybe, just maybe, when this is all over, I’ll finally allow myself that full English breakfast. After all, running is about balance—and sometimes that balance includes bacon.