Conquering the Crest

The halfway mark wasn't the finish line. I gripped the bullnose of step seven and launched upward. Step eight. Step nine. The timber grain bit into my knuckles with every pull. On the twelfth rise, my forearms locked, burning with tension, but I drove my boots into the final riser and vaulted flat onto the second-floor hallway landing. Right at the summit stood an unyielding wooden doorstop wedged into the floorboards. I planted both boots, lowered my center, and drove my shoulder hard into the dense rubber block until it shifted flush against the trim. Full summit secured.