Slotted Track Run

The bike rack led right to the curb, where a long iron storm drain stretched down the street. It looked like an endless ladder laid flat! I hopped straight down onto the heavy black metal and lined my soles up with the parallel ridges. Every step went *clink-clonk, clink-clonk* against the cast iron as I hit a full-tilt sprint down the curb line. A crisp fallen maple leaf fluttered right into my path, so I gave it a sharp flick with my sneaker. It spun sideways like a propeller straight into the gutter slit. Rhythm held, stride intact!