Thursday, July 27, 2017

Hare, Tortoise

The second time up the hill is killing me, but damn if I'm not going to pass as many people as possible on my way up. The competitive part of my psyche, the one that I hardly ever indulge in public, cackles with delight (internally) with each person that I pass, glorying in the little frisson of conquest, hoping that each person feels that slight disheartening sensation of defeat as I beat them to the top.

Now, at the top of the hill, my lungs are fire, and my legs molten jelly, but I suck wind with satisfaction as I coast into the downward side.

And here, on my left, comes one of the people I passed on my way up, trucking past me, leaving me in the dust without seeming to even break a sweat.
One year ago: Behind the Sky
Two years ago: She's Right
Three years ago: A Future in Sales
Eight years ago: at best

No comments:

Post a Comment