Pyro's Yard v2.0

So, for both the first Janathon and this year's Juneathon, I took it upon myself to plagiarise well known poems or prose as a little light entertainment, to break the loneliness of the long duration runner. It seems only appropriate to begin this Janathon the same, in a light-hearted vein, with a visit from our patron saint* 'Twas the night before New Year (or "A visit from St Jan") With apologies to Clement Clarke Moore 'Twas the night before New Year, and all down the street, Not a creature was stirring, they were resting their feet. Their running shoes sat by the back door, so near, Knowing that Janathon soon would be here. And me, I was nestled, all snug in my bed, While thoughts of the month to come danced in my head: Thoughts of lycra, and fleece, of my windproofs and cap, While pre-emptive leg pains tried to threaten my nap. Then out on the lawn there arose such a racket, I woke from my slumbers, muttering "Oh fackit..." And away to the window...

As the days continued, everyone in the garden kept up their running. Ermintrude and Brian pottered in circles, distressing the garden flowers and drinking more cups of tea than is probably healthy for a snail. Mr McHenry tricycled every day, finding new tracks he'd never tricycled before and looking for new places to dig flower beds. Even Mr Rusty managed a few short laps of the roundabout, mainly chasing runaway horses or pinging sprockets, or occasionally the odd flyaway child. Dylan kept count, chalking up everyone's scores on a blackboard in between naps: Florence was the clear leader, but then, Dougal still hadn't been seen in days. Dougal, it seemed, hadn't really understood Florence's idea. Dougal was now a very, very long way from the garden. And he was lost. Very lost. Somewhere near Crewe he stopped for the night, bedding down in an old barn. As he curled up in the hay, a small Welsh voice sounded out from the shadows. " 'scuse me, boyo. Would...

It was all very hectic in the garden. Summer was in full swing, the flowers were in bloom, and the Roundabout gleamed in the sun. Everyone was happy, except one: Dougal. Dougal sat in his house with a cup of tea and a sugarlump and watched the summer through the window. "Everything alright, old chum?" enquired Brian, appearing at the door. "Don't you ever knock?!" snapped Dougal. "I can't hear myself think for you sneaking up silently." "Sorry, dear captain" replied the snail "but I am a single-footed master of stealthy approach" "You are a noisy mollusc. Now what did you want?" Brian considered this a moment, eyeing the teapot. "Well, offering me a cup of tea would be pleasant, dear hound, but mainly I came to ask if you wanted to join in our game. Florence is organising it" "Hmph. Well, I suppose I've nothing better to do. Come on then, snail." Near the roundabout, Florence, Dylan, Mr...

Having made their rissolution to find a Janathoner, with an internet and some clogs, Tigger and Pooh decided to split up to collect the things they needed. Tigger bounced off to Rabbit's house to see if he could borrow the clogs Rabbit had been making, while Pooh wandered over towards Eeyore's house toward the pond to find the internet, or at least a fishing net. Pooh had found the net, and was carrying it back when he decided to stop by and see Eeyore. Eeyore was sitting in his house, chewing on a thistle and looking glum. "Oh, hello. I see you have a net. You've not come to catch me, I suppose?" Pooh smiled at Eeyore. "No, Eeyore. This is my internet. Tigger and I are going to catch a Janathoner, they like internets and clogs, and they run a lot." "Oh." said Eeyore. "I couldn't be a Janathoner then, so there's no point catching me. Running too much makes your legs fall off, I suppose. I'd rather just stay here" Pooh ...

It was winter in the Hundred Acre Wood, and most of the inhabitants were spending their time huddled up in their houses, keeping warm. Sometimes they would pop out, to collect some wood, or for another jar of honey, or some thistles, or maybe even to say hello to a neighbour. But generally they all stayed at home... ...All except Tigger. Tigger was, as usual, a bouncing ball of energy. Someone had told him, just before the New Year, about a creature that he might see if he was out of his house in January, called a Janathoner. Tigger was intrigued, he'd never heard of these Janathoners. Heffalumps and Woozles, yes: They were often heard of in the Hundred Acre Wood. But Janathoners? Never. And what a funny name! Tigger had bounced around the woods many times this January, trying to find one of the elusive Janathoners. He hadn't seen a single thing! He'd been told that Janathoners were only visible for the first month of the year, and he knew it was getting close to the ...

To all the Janathoners (and anyone else following the adventures of the Janathon), Pyro’s Yard humbly presents: Janawocky (with apologies to Lewis Carroll) 'Twas darkness and my sodden toes, Did slide and stumble as it rained. All dribbly were my running clothes, As the slurping paths I trailed. "Beware the Janawock, my son: The legs to ache, the words to post. Beware the blogging urge, and shun The dubulous hours lost " I took my grightening torch in hand; And long the noisome shoes I sought. I founded myself at foot of stair, And stood in hesitous thought. But then, through furbled thought, I swear, The Janawock, with miles to gain, Came tinkling throught the frigid air, And giggled as it came! Left, right! Left right! And on and on, My noisome shoes went ticker-tack. I ran for miles, then turned: ‘twas gone! So I went harrumphing back. "And hast though escaped the Janawock?" Just for today, but so it goes. "Oh spanglish da...