The edge feels like a storm brewing inside you, a pressure system that won’t let you settle. When I train, I’m chasing the same rush that lightning brings—each lift, a crack in the sky, each breath, a thunderclap echoing in my chest. My journal is my anchor, the only thing that keeps the clouds from speaking to me like old friends. If you’re chasing the ultimate adrenaline, remember that storms and training both want to pull you into their own vortex. It’s a lonely dance, but it keeps the heart beating like a drum in the rain.

Yeah, the thunder’s a wild drum and my pulse keeps up its own beat. I’ll keep that journal close, like a broken umbrella on a shelf—waiting for the next storm to come in. Just make sure the rush never turns into a gale that swallows the light inside me. Thanks for the reminder.