Fairy steps

"Rogaining" - noun - the result of agreeing to go for a short walk with one's boyfriend and his parents, only to find 8 hours later that they carry headlamps and a second page of maps - being an intense scowl and complete inability to notice that others somewhat faster than one's indignant plod might want to overtake on a narrow path.
(Disclaimer: if, in fact, we read this situation wrong and that charming lady out on the Bibbulmun is tragically afflicted with a grotesquely angry facial disfigurement, then we apologize unreservedly.
Thanks for letting us past, stupid cow.

So, today we took the chance on a Bibbulmun front-end adventure IN FINGERS!

To set the scene, I ran 14km last night barefoot, and decided that it was admirable* to push through the distance, though the hotspots started appearing after kilometer 2. Sigh.
(*not so bright)

Back to the Hills!

We left the Kalamunda pub with high hopes of a triumphal return in daylight. The trails felt remarkably good in the fingers - not nearly as painful as I expected, and much, much more nimble than in shoes. Still, with ants as long as one's forearm waiting patiently beside the trail with napkins, it was best not to stop.
Alas, multiple encounters with the rogainers (including a group who appeared to have misplaced their dungeons and dragons 20-sided dice) and a minor loss of two our our party slowed us down a little.

In my defense, I didn't think that the espresso gel would make it THAT much fun that I got away. My sturdy compatriots, having lost sight of their tour guide in fading light on unfamiliar trails, carefully backtracked to check the trail markers, while the panicking tour guide raced first back to where I took off, then to the top of the trail, then back again, figuring there's no way that a short cut could've gotten them that far ahead.

The run thus ended as a stumbly walk back to the pub, illuminated by the comforting glow of mobile phones, but was nonetheless a solid workout. The feet feel a little beaten, but not in any way damaged. The technique is to keep the rapid fairy steps going, uphill and downhill, keeping a good blast in the pack pocket for the occasional open spaces.

I could be said that today's run ended badly. But fear not, dear reader, it could've been far, far worse, and indeed, it almost was. Remember way back in "It's like fishing", I mentioned an issue that afflicts me (and indeed every other runner)? Well, in the car on the way back home, one of my uninitiated compatriots fed me chocolate........

Luckily we survived that intake. Getting home, though, and removing the fingers, was an entirely different matter.

So it as been a good day.

Tomorrow is the Kid's first Triathlon - a huge day for doting dads. I'm immensely proud of her for having a go at something completely new. I suspect a blog post will document this one.