I crave a runner's symphony: the whispered breeze a quick sprint brings, the gravel or leaves crunching beneath my feet, the mild air brushing up against my face. I define lines as as my distance markers: lane lines, start lines, finish lines, the lines of roads and side walks, the line of the horizon ahead. I confront these unforgiving hills with force, and I embrace that inevitable exhaustion that proceeds. And before I outrun either time or opponent I remember that sometimes running smart supersedes running hard. I make my own path: the path to my limits, to my goals, to my line. A path to one more hill, one more mile, one second faster. When I reach the end of my path, I know that I gave my all today; pushing to my limits which will make me a stronger, faster, quicker runner. This pain builds character, and this character is what will get me through the race.
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