There's a full moon hanging in the sky as we head down to the field for our morning run. The sun refuses to rise, hiding behind the trees and leaving us in half-dark.
Under the trees it's too dark to run. On a bush track covered in loose rocks, slimy, clingy mud and fallen branches, to run would be an accident in the making. No, we must walk, at least until we can see.
We string out in a long, straggly line, testing the track as we go. Have the puddles shrunk any? Which patches are muddy and slippery? Where do we have to detour?
By the time we reach the end of the first lap, the lazy sun is peeping at us. We can see the rocks at our feet. We can dodge the clawing branches.We can run.
Down the track we flash, leaping over branches, avoiding loose rocks, skirting puddles. We weave in and out of the trees, catching a flash of colour here and there as we see each other through the trees.
Someone falls. A moment later they're up and running again. Who cares about a few scrapes?
The sun has cleared the trees by the time we're ready to go home. Sweat soaked, sore footed, gasping for breath, but happy. Very happy. There's nothing quite like bush track running under a full moon.