Seeing red

November 6, 2015

Like a bull to a taunting flag ablaze in red satin, I hunted down the hills this morning. I attacked, but did not conquer.

My face was as crimson as the blood in my veins and my legs as leaden as, well, lead once the run was done and I began the final descent home.

And I was angry with myself, saw red, for cutting the run shorter than my goal. Two more sets! That’s all I needed to finish.

I recouped and calmed down, forgave myself my quitting episode, with some local scarlet cranberries atop yogurt and granola.

A run of red.

The colour of pride, victory, and defeat.

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