Night Riding

 

Up on that mountain there are no screaming crowds or adoring fans to reach out and touch you as you start that climb. Seems like there’s nobody who cares whether you live or die, make it or don’t, over the top of that tall tall hill. Out there it’s just you and the dark and one of your finest animals making your way to a distant impossible summit while the wind shrieks against your burning face and blood pounds in the roots of your teeth and overhead a frozen river of stars pour out of the heavens to splash the naked firmament.