Running again

I went for a run last night. Yes, I did it. One small step on the road back to fitness. I was only running down to the end of the drive, but it was a fair effort anyway, considering that it was half past nine, after dark, and I only had a brief window of opportunity while Richard and Jack were in the shower.

I ran with a torch to negotiate the savage camber of the gravel driveway, a sturdy (if somewhat decrepit and hearing impaired) cattledog to fend off any boogeymen, and a tiny black and white collie pup, for the heck of it. It turned out that bogeymen were a real concern for both Sybil and I. The night was so deep and black, with only a nervous sliver of a moon, and the cries of the mopoke and the squillion stars of the Milky Way were terribly bright in our eyes and ears.

Strange that I’d be more frightened on my own driveway in a quiet country district, homestead lights on both sides of me, than on the Perth riverside with its resident weirdos and drunks. Sybil had more reason to be skittish: as we reached the creek the scent of something dead wafted across the gully and a fox in the adjacent paddock began to cry out. Being not bigger than a rabbit herself, Sybil laid her ears back and darted across the roadway to duck between my shuffling feet, causing me to skip and hop to avoid tripping over her.

We were all bolder on the trip home. Jack had the scent of the feral hayshed cats in his nostrils, Sybil was eager for the lights of home, and I found the rhythm of my breathing and my feet starting to come together as I headed up the hill to my freshly washed man and boy.

I’m not too tired today, and the pleasure of my own time and space, cool air and sweat have me newly inspired to continue.