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Midweek Shenanigans
I rode my e-bike down to the Lochside Trail and started my out-and-back run toward the trestle bridge over Blenkinsop Lake, which I always called Roy’s Bridge. I fumbled with my voice recorder at the start, laughing at all the clothing noise before finally tucking it back into its glove. As I crossed the cedar planks, I enjoyed the glockenspiel-like sound of my shoes tapping along the wooden bridge. A little farther down the trail, I bumped into Chris running in the opposite direction doing his K-repeats. I carried on down the path, feeling like the Running Jackal signing off near the end of another rambling trail podcast.
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By JackalI rode my e-bike down to the Lochside Trail and started my out-and-back run toward the trestle bridge over Blenkinsop Lake, which I always called Roy’s Bridge. I fumbled with my voice recorder at the start, laughing at all the clothing noise before finally tucking it back into its glove. As I crossed the cedar planks, I enjoyed the glockenspiel-like sound of my shoes tapping along the wooden bridge. A little farther down the trail, I bumped into Chris running in the opposite direction doing his K-repeats. I carried on down the path, feeling like the Running Jackal signing off near the end of another rambling trail podcast.