Sprint Along the Seam

I lined up my stance against the straight seam of the wooden boardwalk. Ahead, forty paces of clear timber stretched toward the harbor beacon. Dropping low, I kicked off into a full sprint. My leg hinges moved in rapid, silent succession, the damp grain blurring beneath my soles as cool ocean air pushed against my chest. At the final plank, I locked both heels and leaned back into a slide. The friction brought me to an abrupt stop, inches short of where a morning wave sloshed over the lower step. Two thin friction marks scored the wet timber behind me. I stood upright, watching the tide.