Look at his poor ankles

Last night I enjoyed the closest thing to a midnight run in years, probably since leaving university in the 90's, and it didn't disappoint. We'd received a late summer shower earlier in the evening and the air was still think with energy, but not nearly as hot and humid as at midday. I strolled up Rockland and wove my way through the darkened streets of Oak Bay, making my way to a familiar fountain looking out over the marina. For some reason I expected the streets to be busier but as I glided down the middle of the road I was thankful, this was just what I needed.

This was going to be my longest (solo) run in weeks and believe it or not I was hesitant, not wanting to get stranded 30' + minutes from home. I remember looking at my watch 45'+ minutes into the run realizing only then that I was okay, making the brave decision to marginally pickup the pace.

Up and over King George Terrace where the light over the bay were reminiscent of Monet's Sunrise painting. At the bottom of the hill I met some young teenagers heading down to the beach.

"Hi", one of them yelled, I'm sure in an attempt to bolster their courage and status.

I waved back and clipped along only to hear "look at his poor ankles". "Poor ankles", I thought to myself, what's wrong with my ankles? Ally has mentioned on several occasions that they were thicker when I was trail running...

Oh, that's when it hit me, "look at Port Angeles", I guess my ankles were okay for another day.

Training: 1:12:25 easy/moderate