The corn is so tall on both sides of our country road that driving home is in a whispering hallway smelling of green and stickiness. I've gotten to know these turns.
In the foggy cool mornings I take off on foot in the opposite direction, running alongside cows and gravel ditches. I feel a sense of rightness and I feel my legs regaining some of their oomph. I feel almost like it's time to name myself a victor.
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