“Rickety Runner” is a fun bit of alliteration. It sums me up as a 74-year-old, long-ago twinkle-toed marathon rank-and-filer. My running story is a serial of rejigs, the latest chapter still incubating.  For 40 years, in New South Wales and North Queensland, my greatest kick was racing.  Beyond the buzz of the chase, Saturday or Sunday… Continue reading

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