The Torrential Hill

Up a torrential hill
The wind is cold, as is the rain
The mud grabs and pulls me down
But I push on next to you

The clouds in the sky
Contrast in beauty
The dark and black
In the West
And light and white
In the East

We laugh and joke
As we push on
Fighting exhaustion
Pushing through pain
Our breath catches short
But still we laugh on

We make it over
The vicious top
Now all we have left
Is the descent
Our speed increases
We're flying now

Nearing the bottom
The land levels out
We stop slowly
Turn around
And run again

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is a poem describing a practice in Cross Country, where we trained on a hill during a torrential storm. I am referring to a friend of mine as we practice, and as we use all our available breath to hold a discussion and joke around. Despite how it sounds at parts, this is actually one of my favorite practices.

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