Tuesday morning run

Opening the gates guarded by spiders. I try to pass through as gently as possible. Chills down my spine every time I enter. My feet crunch, crunch, crunch a lonesome rhythm on the uphills. No conversation today but my mind is quiet. That is what I need. My headlamp the only companion.
The grade levels and I am on new terrain. Slow jog. Now a tip tap dance, invisible skipping rope, go on forever.
King Protea like a huge spotlight shows the way. Clouds on fire around the full moon. Harold is nowhere to be seen. Good thing too.
The Surf Line illuminated by city lights way below me. Wave after wave run towards nothing. There is no gate to close behind me.
I descend as my light fades and so does the moon. Replaced by orange city glow. A new day starts.

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