There is no grace for
the ill-equipped. The constancy of coming to speed, rolling off the hill by
just that little, the mad scramble of the spirit that refuses to die. There is
no stillness in this motion. Wouldn't be bearable - the fumble, the sensation, all
spikes and bounce - if it weren't so funny, in it's unnecessariness. The beauty
of balance hides in nooks and crannies, waiting to be discovered. Failure isn't
an option. Failure is a friend. I embrace you. Let's run together.
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