Tuesday run XXXXXXX

[Kristy]

Tuesday! Tuesday! Tuesday! It's ringroad run day!

Meet 7pm Castle Hill Car park (the one next to the Castle pub and
Castle mound). We'll decide at the start if we're Castling or beer
festivaling after.

Weather: 1900 Medium-level cloud 20 °C NE 6 mph Very Good

Bring a bottle of water.

There will be a car for stuff. If you're driving, watch the bad
closedness of Shire Hall Car Park though >-(

REASONS TO BE THERE
You like it!
Run off the beer festival
Drink more beer after
Steve H has come all the way from Australia to RRR
At the time of writing it is 106 days, 03 hours, 05 minutes, 43
seconds to Grunty Fen
Another opportunity to tell the GM her Roman Numerals are wrong
Peer pressure
A good way to avoid other stuff you want to do even less
You can't wait another day to see lovely hashers

A RANGE OF RRROUTES (not the full range yet though, Alec)

8.4 mile route:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293385

8.1 mile route:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4478865
It's the same as the 8.4 one but you turn right off Long Road just
after one of the hills and follow the off-road path past the stream
and the allotments until you rejoin at the Trumpington Rd traffic
lights where you turn onto the footpath.

5.3 mile route
One week I did a shortcut - started the loop as normal but turned off
to run the length of Mill Road and straight through town back to the
Castle.

4.74 mile ringroad-run-doesn't-have-to-be-long-or-fast-or-even-include-
much-ringroad route
This was last week's ringroad run.
http://connect.garmin.com/activity/181153530

AUSTRALIAN POEM OF THE WEEK

Brumby's Run

The aboriginal term for a wild horse is a "brumby". At a trial in the
Supreme Court in Sydney around the time this poem was written, the
judge, hearing the term "brumby horses" asked "Who is Brumby and where
is his run?"

It lies beyond the Western Pines
Towards the sinking sun,
And not a survey mark defines
The bounds of "Brumby's Run".

On odds and ends of mountain land,
On tracks of range and rock
Where no one else can make a stand,
Old Brumby rears his stock.

A wild, unhandled lot they are
Of every shape and breed.
They venture out 'neath moon and star
Along the flats to feed;

But when the dawn makes pink the sky
And steals along the plain,
The Brumby horses turn and fly
Towards the hills again.

The traveller by the mountain-track
May hear their hoof-beats pass,
And catch a glimpse of brown and black
Dim shadows on the grass.

The eager stockhorse pricks his ears
And lifts his head on high
In wild excitement when he hears
The Brumby mob go by.

Old Brumby asks no price or fee
O'er all his wide domains:
The man who yards his stock is free
To keep them for his pains.

So, off to scour the mountain-side
With eager eyes aglow,
To strongholds where the wild mobs hide
The gully-rakers go.

A rush of horses through the trees,
A red shirt making play;
A sound of stockwhips on the breeze,
They vanish far away!

Ah, me! before our day is done
We long with bitter pain
To ride once more on Brumby's Run
And yard his mob again.

A.B. Banjo Paterson

[Andrew Ede]

Hmm.  Somebody's been using copy and paste.

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