The time I became a sprinter

The other day brought me something new in my running adventures.

It was late in the afternoon and I'd headed out in for a run to sweat off some of the day's food consumption. Sweat was the key word too: at a guess it was about 35C.  My legs were tired after a fair degree of running, cycling, swimming and yoga the last few days and by about the halfway mark I was suspecting I'd hit the wall before I finished.

I'd settled into that kind of running torpor where you're trying not to think about how hot the air is that you're inhaling or how tired your legs feel.  I was just trying to get lost in the music and chisel the distance away.  About a solid third of the route was on one of the two wheeltracks that make up the "road" out the back of the farm. I was only slightly taking what was in front of me and I saw that there was an ant trail and a stick and some gravel and an angry looking brown snake and a patch of leaves and an ... oh my Lord there's an angry looking brown snake right by my foot!

Image from here - photographing the snake was the last thing on my mind!

I let out the sort of whoop that would have been heard in the next shire and jumped about 5 feet in the air.  All the tiredness dropped from me as I sprinted the next hundred yards at a speed that would have qualified me for Rio.  Was I awake then?  Oh yes!  Did I start imagining being chased by a brown snake?  Maybe.  And was the run harder because I didn't dare let my brain tune out to ignore the pain?  Lots.

Actually I was nowhere near the Hume Weir but it was the only good photo I could find

I used to run in the city and got used to being hyper-alert for cars and trams.  I can tell you I never had a shock quite like that one though!