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Mountainside Vindication

My own inadequacies lay manifest as I postholed up the snow covered ridge. Every labored breath a stark reminder of the wrong turns I had taken the year before. All of the mornings I had chosen to silence my alarm and stay in the warm, cocooning, opulence of my blankets. The extra helpings. The well intentioned declarations to start over when the next Monday came. They all hit me like a punch to the gut as I willed my diaphragm to rise and fall and begged for the breath that would offer some relief, some respite from the burn of lactic acid and the ache of muscles atrophied from too little use.