A blog about BISCO things
Inspired by others and with a frivolous attachment to smashing through puddles, I find myself out on the trails.
Running. Moving. Open moors.
The British weather makes this outdoors a belter.
And different again by Sunday.
Within half an hour, soaked through, tumbling over tree roots and wiping all sorts from my face.
Take a left.
The brambles scratch the shins and water rolls out of the shoe.
Breathe it in, and get it; that’s the order.
I can see the sea.