I didn't didn't have quick feet today, so I ran the Heritage trail cautiously , along paths of mud and water, trails of tree roots, down steep steps cut into sandstone and up slick wooden stairs.
To my left was the harbour, grey water under a grey sky and the city shrouded in cloud. I had the trail to myself, except for an old Italian man who cheerfully greet me and I him. Fronds of banksia and fingers of wattle brushed rain onto my arms and face.
There was not a soul on tiny Tingara beach, where I saw a mermaid once, thirty quick paces took me across the soft golden sand and away from the harbour panorama.
It took me nearly an hour to reach Neilson Park from my home, but though the pace was slow I no longer felt tired and I continued happily on through the back streets of Vaucluse to Parsely Bay then towards Watson's Bay. I wished the few walkers and runners that were out and about a good morning and and they responded likewise; its nice that people can still connect in a big city.
At Camp Cove some scuba divers were kitting up. One woman, suited and masked turned and stared at me as though I were a creature from the depths of the sea, an alien in her world.
On the South Head loop I passed an old 19th century muzzle loading cannon and numerous fortifications from the era. Across from me on the other side of the harbour, not far as the gull flies, was an expanse of harbourside parkland, hiding the zoo and countless homes. A ferry headed towards Manly.
I ran past the lightkeepers cottage and the candy striped Hornby lighthouse, saw past the Heads to the Tasman Sea.
I wondered if Sharon and Cillian were up yet and thought how nice it would be for them to see this.
I though of runs with friends, whose company made even the hardes training sessions a pleasure.
At the Gap sulpher crested cockatoos perched on the cliff edge, their lemon tufts standing out against the dark rocks. Brighter still the yellow oilskins of two fishermen standing on a rock ledge. An orange float I saw in the waters far below.

Bondi was quiet; the surfers were enjoying a Sunday morning of decent waves after weeks of heavy mush.
I had been running for 2.5 hours so decided that Bronte was too far and ran the long climb of Bondi Road, through sterile Bondi Junction, where it was still too early for the shoppers. The last few ks home were downhill and that suited me just fine.
The last day of winter and the thirteenth anniversary of my arrival in Sydney and I ran and was happy.