Sliding scale of surfaces. I’m running on just the best recently. The gravel roads surrounding Our Little Slice just now on the cusp of requiring their pre winter adornment. The oversize chunky and clunky stuff of this spring’s application either crushed or otherwise spirited away. Leaving a nice crown of firmly compacted dirt. Zero energy return into the old limbs, extending my running career into its fourth decade.
The infrequent passing vehicle slowing, waving, now recognizing the lithe denizens that startled them a year ago. Most days I happily don’t see a single car. If I didn’t know why I had such a hard time fitting my square peg into the round hole of West O, I do now. Country.
And I’m getting back to the basics man. In my head. Easily slipping into that aura that surrounds my personal red line, where the only Real Truth resides. Enough life time experience to finesse, explore and develop, ask and answer, seek and find. Go to the well. Find it still holding that dear sustenance, Honesty, to my soul. Having to dip the bucket a little deeper to be sure. My own now the hands of my father, calloused from a life’s effort hauling the staff of life. Real Living. Real Work.
I’m coming for you and I’ll be fit. I’ll travel this graveled road until I’m ready. Might take just a bit longer to get where I’m going but I’ve been there before and it is, for me, a strong primal instinct. The Will to Win. Hasn’t faded yet.
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