Not the city but the bird.

My front door street was neglected a long time ago.  Countless years of four seasons magnified by solar radiation over six thousand feet above sea level have taken their toll.  The road has eroded to a quarter mile of worst case scenario with a bit of sandy gravel to make things interesting.  Ideal training ground.

After the prospect of radical downhill navigation with the order of a Gator Leash, I strapped on my carbon fiber/alunimum alloy wings to start getting back in shape.

Five cycles of descent and ascent, downhill was the worst.  The road shock would turn my whole lower half to rubber.  It did for the first two runs.  My ankles started failing halfway through so I’d sit down and let my feet recover.  Runs three and four were great, I started to run solid as the blood fed my feet and my ankles adjusted to the shock.

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