I had a beard, but ran far and fast and the beard turned to fire. Then everything turned to ice. After awhile the beard grew back, legs recovered, and running continued. I’ve been waiting for something big to say, but amid life’s ordinary cycles a continuation of regular running through winter weather has been my focus. This will be enough for now.
Last night I dreamed I was in a long race on mountainous terrain. Weather was warm and sunlight deeply penetrating. The air was heavy with the mingled scents of trees and the dry dirt trail carried upwards by summer heat. In the midst of an especially challenging climb featuring hard-packed switchbacks, the ascent seemed impossibly steep after having already run many long miles. My eyes were incredibly heavy and the brain wanted little more than to shut off and go to sleep, but I kept going, one foot in front of the other at a respectfully steady pace—at peace with a difficult challenge. I was less than a mile from the finish ahead with family members at the mountaintop. Finally reaching the summit only a short straight away remained before the end. I cried as I saw my family, feeling purified and at home after running through so much in my imaginary dreamscape.
Such drama from the mind of a flatlander!