Conquering the High Ground

You threw a greeting my way, and I answered with work. I marched off the wooden stand onto the thick, woven terrain of the rug. Right in my path sat a giant running shoe—a solid wall of rubber and mesh. I didn't steer around it. I gripped a heavy nylon lace with both hands, planted my boots firmly against the outer sole, and hauled it back until the tongue flared wide. One decisive stride later, I stood square on the toe box. Elevated. Dominant. When you call out, you get maximum effort in return.