Figuratively speaking, all of us have mountains to climb. I've been running up them summits many times ever since that certain solid fragrance left to Santa Monica and beyond... I'd like to think I'm done climbing those kind of mountains but I find a degree of comfort in knowing that some mountains are meant to be climbed. As you ascend and descend each peak you come to the stark realization that mountains are so unforgiving.
I'm a sucker for punishment, i don't know, but the devil on my shoulder says, "the perfect
place to fight your demons is running up a mountain." You'd think that when you're alone, the monsters in your head would come to say "Hello," but this is not true... In most instances you're a victim of your own mind. There is
never a dull moment up there; there are no distractions, rattlesnakes will keep you vigilant. It's true what they say-- the best views come after the hardest climbs.
Without realizing it, I've been training for my next marathon.
What fuels the fire inside us?