Super Sub Human

Yesterday was one of those runs. Everything flowed, I felt nimble and fast on technical downhills, powerful and strong on steep climbs. Running alone with no benchmarks, I felt as fast as the fastest even though my running always falls about 50% slower than the speed demons out there. Who cares, my shirt was off, sweat was flowing freely out while breath flowed freely in and the trail felt like home: fun, friendly, playful. I dashed across the trans-canada as twilight settled in. A hairy, shirtless, glistening, geared-up sasquatch in front of the couple of cars that saw me. Back into the woods and over rocks along Goldstream past bigleaf maples and madrone. I am so damn lucky to be doing this. So damn lucky.

The Himalaya

By now the summer has
Pushed the himalayas back
the thorns to brown
the leaves to dustiness
And everything else
mustered into the fruit.

Summer’s hand is gentle;
how it massages bramble
in its soft flesh palm
next to lifeline,
Adroitly working
even as those first low
clouds breach the horizon
to sweep in a whisper
of something else
Pleading for you
not to reach an arm in
or try to sidestep
between the canes
Like a legend passing
into another season.