©Bob Tabor

The best feeling.

The equivalent to flying.

Nothing can top this feeling.

The wind coursing through your veins as if it is the source of life. The pounding beneath you syncs in the rhythm of your own heartbeat—the rush.

You can only find this in a precious and trusting connection. I trust the runner, and he trusts me.

No secrets.

No lies.

No agenda.

Just our bondless spirits galloping together toward the horizon line.

This is my sanctuary.

Word Count: 78

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