Run 36:00 [3] 7.0 km (5:09 / km)
A low-key return to running, staying on the flat (to the extent that I walked down the Hawdon Street hill to start and up it to finish). Wasn't exactly flowing but back didn't give me any trouble of consequence; in as much as anything was sore it was my hips (perhaps more evidence that there's a single underlying problem). As a flat run it perhaps wouldn't have been expected to test my back that much in any case, but the ramp up from the Banksia Street bridge would have been enough to set it off earlier in the week.
The football last night was a big night even if the result was ultimately not what I wanted. You could tell it was a big night from the beginning, negotiating the crowds on the bridge and going past four different lots of tin-rattlers (one was the Australian rowing team; as I've noted earlier on these pages, the annual budget of the Scotch College rowing program is rumoured to be larger than that of Rowing Australia). Going to a night like this, though, is a reminder of a lot that is right about this city and country (in an era when a lot of people are dedicated to telling us what is wrong), not least the completely peaceful mixing of the two tribes throughout and afterwards - symbolised in my mind by the embracing couple walking back to the station, him in red and black, her in blue and white.
One of my neighbours at the game was a small boy called Ryder who had, I would guess, just learned to read his own name and was very excited on numerous occasions to see it in my copy of the Record (and, unlike the Ryder better known to most readers here, he was wearing the colours his name suggests he should). By the last quarter I was muttering that if the Essendon selectors had seen fit to include his namesake we might not have been losing.