Not a bad way to kick off a Sunday.
A quiet drive down to Woodside where Maura and I met Tony to hit up the Huddart trails. Leigh couldn't join, she had bigger fish to fry crewing at Western States. It was Maura's first time at Huddart, so I did what I could to make her maiden voyage on her first trail shoes a good one.
And she has battle scars to prove it, a stray root jumping up to grab her foot a mile from the end of the run. She's OK, having learned the hard way that trail running is as much dancing as it is running.
My legs felt fresh yesterday morning at boxing for the first time since the marathon. Meandering on these trails one more step to getting back to normal.
It was a low mileage second half of the month, having cranked out over 100 in the first 16 days. To then not reach 140 by the end of the month shows just how much that race took out of me. But tomorrow I'll be back at it. A fresh month, a fresh count and (hopefully) fresh legs.