Mountains

I ran the trail today, in the mountains, rocks, red and brown dirt, boulders, ridges, foothills, distant peaks, and the feeling the mountain will kill me.

But what's death anyhow, right? If it is predictable, if your life is prolonged by the wishes or wants of others, you have lost your way. No, rather, go when you want to go. Don't let people say the 'risk-reward' was stupid. No, the death was beautiful, the risk, the courage, the sacrifice, and effort. Choose your death wisely. It will come. Face death with two clenched fists, and a stance that says "I've got 13 motherfucking rounds, you fuck."