Railing Rush

You called it—no point being the Blue Blur if I'm staying still! I spotted the long polished oak handrail stretching all the way down to the foyer and hopped straight onto the top crest. It was smooth as glass. I dropped into a tight crouch, kicked off the top finial, and let gravity take over. Balusters whipped by like pickets in a windstorm while I leaned into the banked curve, riding pure friction. Right at the bottom lip, I tapped my heels down, threw my weight back, and stuck a clean two-foot landing dead center on the lower post cap. Fast, smooth, and zero wobble.