She can feel it. It's in their pace, in the shortening steps, in the thinning, cooling air. In the wind that whips and sends her ponytail skewing to the side. In the stitch that's making itself known, pulse by pulse, by her ribs. She can see clouds marching across the sky out of the corner of her eye, floating high and puffy above the breeze, glinting white and pristine. Oahu is rolling itself out underneath them, but she doesn't look down, doesn't look to the sides, gives Steve a tight smile when he looks back, keeps her head down, and keeps going.
Breath by measured breath. Coming in puffs, now, lungs straining, muscles screaming. Feet feeling like they're encased in cement, instead of light running shoes. Cement on fire. Up, up.
It's good. Kicking that wave of endorphins, and riding right into it. Knowing she can, because she will, and that the way back down will be easier and harder, too, with gravity doing it's best to bring her down too fast, make her turn an ankle.
Things she can't think about yet, when she glances up, and it's there. The top. Flattening out into a shortened horizon, and making her smile, huffing a hard breath, and dig deeper, scrape the bottom of that barrel, and propel upwards, because she might not be able to beat Steve, but she's willing to bet she can catch him if she tries.
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branchandroot
(no subject)
Date: 2013-01-28 12:51 am (UTC)She can feel it. It's in their pace, in the shortening steps, in the thinning, cooling air. In the wind that whips and sends her ponytail skewing to the side. In the stitch that's making itself known, pulse by pulse, by her ribs. She can see clouds marching across the sky out of the corner of her eye, floating high and puffy above the breeze, glinting white and pristine. Oahu is rolling itself out underneath them, but she doesn't look down, doesn't look to the sides, gives Steve a tight smile when he looks back, keeps her head down, and keeps going.
Breath by measured breath. Coming in puffs, now, lungs straining, muscles screaming. Feet feeling like they're encased in cement, instead of light running shoes. Cement on fire. Up, up.
It's good. Kicking that wave of endorphins, and riding right into it. Knowing she can, because she will, and that the way back down will be easier and harder, too, with gravity doing it's best to bring her down too fast, make her turn an ankle.
Things she can't think about yet, when she glances up, and it's there. The top. Flattening out into a shortened horizon, and making her smile, huffing a hard breath, and dig deeper, scrape the bottom of that barrel, and propel upwards, because she might not be able to beat Steve, but she's willing to bet she can catch him if she tries.