It was one of those runs that you started and wanted it to end straight away. I made 10kms across a bog exploring a part of the Pentlands that Id not visited before. An old Drovers road to the borders. As the wind battered my face sideways intertwined with large rain drops the feet sunk into sloppy mossy bog. The squelch backlash spraying up my leg into my shorts. Man-made ‘bridges’ for walkers making slippy planks for runners, some half submerged as if nature is reclaiming them for its own.
These were the opposite of helpful, making me break whatever stride I had.
I felt like I’d done 10kms of bog hurdles as although I’m not shy of getting myself wet and muddy, the bogs were hard to judge. Either too soft and you would lose your ankle in it, or just soft enough to land in and push off before being succommed by water. The best option was to just jump them. My priopreception got a work out today.