damp roads at night pushing and pulsing light
whip soiled water onto pack and *** from back bicycle wheels rotating furiously out of purgatory out of bleary eyes of incandescence and towards the same eyes lit by patriotism or in another sense incarceration
wheels spinning straight and directionless
sore legs denying illusion of purpose purported by a between eyebrows headache only achieved through a blindfolded walk down memory lane keys jingling from a carabiner and a misplaced confidence self corrected before it was too late to realize that reality is difficult to handle with all 5 senses and a distinction between right and wrong and being left handed but not leftist because the only thing worse that being dumb is being spineless invertebrate vampires killing sheep in the prairie and funding proxy wars while fighting for who?
wheels spinning round and round keep insisting on idealism

My crampons crunched into the snow, as the sky began to come alive with the sun rising over a crest behind me. The only lights near me are headlamps in a straight row, and the whiteness from the snow appearing more clearly. Six people mimic me, tied together by harnesses and a blue and green weaved climbing rope, a six to eight step difference. Relying on me to lead, guide, and set the pace, I stop to look behind me to see a row of white helmets glowing from their headlamps.  "Step. Crunch. Breath in. Step. Crunch. Breath Out. Step. Crunch. Breath in," I yell military style. They need me to talk through our breathing. 13,000' and my legs are moving slower, the crampons are feeling heavier with each step. My breathing feels like its being strangled by the rope attached to my back carabiner. I want to stop. Sit. Eat. Not move again. I wonder how I can check in with others behind, how I can lead, yell, talk if I feel light-headed, questioning my decisions to tip-toe on the edge of a crevasse that has just appeared, I think. I have lost track of how many hours have passed. The sun is my best friend reminding me of time, as it burns off the whisking clouds appearing at my head as my elevation increases. As I remember to look up, look ahead, I know we are close, highest I have ever been. I want to run, but I know I am moving in very slow motion. I slip off my crampons, thankfully being able to walk on stone, scree and scramble to the summit to kiss the sky at 14, 562'.