So, THiS is probably where this all really started :
If I had a lofthouse cookie with pink frosting every time I heard those words....well maybe if I was still running like I did then.
...you can not take it with you.
If I had a lofthouse cookie with pink frosting every time I heard those words....well maybe if I was still running like I did then.
But those were my favorite words, and that was the greatest place to be, at the starting line, on the mark. every fiber of my being fully actively engaged, all the strength with all my might, keeping me behind that line until it was time. Every thing mattered. Each breath, That thought, Everything was still, the world was silent, in anticipation. waiting for the moment of truly pure exhiliration-but that freedom comes and the race is on, and that moment is no more. Everything changes and you win some, lose some and skin your elbows and knees much more often than the former. Back to the training room, preparing, examining, building it back up, tearing it down, and remembering. Remembering who you are when you are there & remembering to get back to the mark, to that holding place, because that is truly where it gets put down, left behind and released-because from there...
...you can not take it with you.
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