Red Feet
It's that time where the arse end of the night slams into the front end of the day. But gently, like. There's a black sky overhead, with a sliver of dying moon providing bugger-all light, but with a huge spread of stars all over the Milky Way. I can see well enough, and I know the layout of the track where I'm going, so it doesn't worry me too much. The shadows produced by the combined might of the moon and the stars are distinct enough to allow me to see any snakes on the road early enough to keep from stepping on them and picking a fight with them. It's a good thing to avoid. My feet feel out the surface of the road as I run along it, looking for the most enjoyable bits to run on. They pick through the gravel, rocks, stones and hard dried-edged mud of wheel ruts, and find the soft sand of drifts of bull dust, across the road and off to the sides. As the eastern sky starts to show signs of changing colour, with shreds of...