The Hill on Poplar Plains

Winding northward, it’s avenue tree-lined and studded with well-manicured homes. The homes where expensive things and their chic owners reside. Its steep curves thrust at me for half a kilometre before I maneouvre an about-face and descend. Only to return to its summit once again.

In all I would stand on the apex of Poplar Plains three times before calling it quits for today’s hill session. All told, a run of 12 kilometres. I am satisfied with my first effort back five days post 43+ km. Working not only on hills but on some agile tempos as well, I could feel the life force returning to me. I had missed this.

The predawn air is crisp but not at all cold. Mother Nature’s welcoming embrace. Adorned as I am merely in a single layer of warm up pants and a trusted if faded sweatshirt from a marathon long ago, I am comfortable. A luxury that such a paucity of layers would not have been afforded a couple of short weeks ago. A harbinger of warmer times to come assuredly.

Birds called, chirped, and sang along my route today. The first time that birds for me have been heard as opposed to only seen in what seems like an eternity of cold months since their previous aria.

As I ran today along the hill on Poplar Plains.



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