December

[Sweder]

Late nights (watching the morning sessions of the Boxing day test from the MCG) scarfing all manner of festive leftovers meant a late start. I rolled, creaking and groaning, from under the duvet at an indecent 10:30 am.
After two days epic carb-loading a run was in order.

Grey skies cast gloomy shadows across downs lightly dusted with powdery snow. News reports cautioned against heavy weather conditions. The annual ‘only travel if absolutely necessary’ warnings seemed a tad optimistic.

By the time our pack reached the lee of Blackcap the steelhead clouds had turned black, unleashing their fluffy white cargo. A biting north wind added impetus to the falling flakes, driving them against my bare arms and legs. Snow settled on my forearms as I blinked furiously to maintain limited visibility. Walkers shrouded in layers of headscarves, hats, mittens and trench coats gazed in wonder at this lycra-clad lump chugging through the white-out.

Halfway home the cloud broke, warm rays of sunshine flooding the hills as the blizzard abated. Feeling returned to my glistening pink fingers as I pushed hard over the last mile. Willow yelped with delight, darting for the dewpond, only to slide, a slowly spinning hairball of confusion, into the frozen centre.

Home to a restorative shower, the wood-burner, hot coffee, a large slice of sticky chocolate cake and the steady glow of knowing there’s nothing on the ‘to do’ list.

5 hilly, snowy miles banked.
Chest sound, new shoes still wonderful. A New Years Eve Snake-run seems a real possibility.