A gorgeous breezy Melbourne day along the Yarra. 30 kms remaining to hit my 2016 target of 1,700 kms. I’m jogging, four kilometres in, hugging the side of the path after being passed by cyclists, when I hear a parrot call in a nearby tree. I spot a guy peering upwards. I crane my head to look and fail to notice how the path’s verge dips into a slight ditch here, and suddenly my left ankle turns and I’m stumbling and I hear a little snick . . .
I run on and none of my immediate fears are borne out, for the next 6 kms flash by without more than a slight tightness across the ankle. 1,680 kms, 20 to go.
Now the foot is sore and hot across the top. Time for the ice pack . . .