Your muscles strain against
frigid November, winter come early, this is the last hill, the last climb your
calves are burning hot against your skin you feel the rope of your hamstrings
taut in their sheath of muscles your quads quiver and shake, a threat of
failure, you feel your bodyheat fly out the crown of your exposed head and
there, at the apex, your greatest desire – the finish line – freedom – and the
distance grows greater between you and it, here and there, but you push, you
push, you push to reach it, even though you know you will only trip on the
other side.
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