Sunday Morning Run

This wind whistling by my uncovered ears creates a deafening roar over the silence of the carless highway. A roar only broken by the steady unfettered “tap, tap, tap” echo of my Hoka’s striking the cold, hard asphalt.   

Breathing in the fridged air not in gulps, but not easy, and just in the right amounts to keep my power plant operating efficiently.

In these precious moments, time slips away into a sliver of reality where the miles pass by unnoticed.

 

 

The Cool Down Runner