minus 5 in the car with the sun still rising. a warming jog up onto the edge with hoar frosted grass crunching under foot. finally, a proper winter's day. perfect for the bogs of bleaklow. the racing lines still not quite found but we weren't far off. shattering of thick peat ice as i take myself and teammate into the dank mire of hydrogen sulfide, with bruises to prove it. counting the stakes and climbing the groughs, jelly sweets were hard earned today. more of the same please.