It's a taste that I like to try, remembering those long gone days. I had already walked, carrying the thirty kilos rücksack and the machine-gun, for more than fifty kilometers. The training was tough, and the war not far away. Three peppercorns and a bar of chocolate. A para's ration.
You made the decision, and I knew it was final, reading your determination in your eyes, and knowing my place. The half marathon would be probably the toughest this season: hilly country, atrocious weather, and very fit competitors. But you trained all year, and I, your training partner, knew the hundreds of miles this meant, … Continue reading #FiveSentenceFiction: Joy