On On: Taffe Rd, Swan View
A foreboding bog roll warned us of what was to come–a message of doom scrawled across its twin-ply leafs. Yes, Tickhead read from a roll of toilet paper before the run, getting us ready for what he promised to be a torturous affair.
Well, some bits were indeed gruelling, such as the extended assault of the dry creek bed, over innumerable irregular stones that challenged the suppleness of my knees, ankles and sanity. The rest was really quite nice, with some great (and new to me) tracks, ending with a pretty stellar view of the city and coastal plain. SCB suffered a sprained thumb during the run, and some PTSD resulted.
A returned runner of olde was given a naming, so we now have “Silent P” in our midst (who also suffered a swollen ankle).
I got off lightly, with some mere bloodletting of my shins. We also came across a couple of bushwalkers who asked for directions back to civilisation, and I think were secretly lost, but too proud perhaps to admit it.
Anyway, a good run.