To heck with squeaking, I want to roar.
Silence did not serve me for a very long time. Right now speaking loudly does.
I am not apologising for speaking.

We ran for half an hour tonight, through dark, damp and gale-swept streets. Those few pedestrians ducked aside as we pack-ran past. I nearly ran straight into the back of a large tall man wearing a full-length black raincoat, standing in the middle of the path and talking on his phone. I didn't see him until I was nearly on top of him.

Staying at home is safe. My warrior-woman brushes aside the elements. She carries on, despite the soreness. She makes a mental note of the stiff quads, the slightly heavy feet. She makes adjustments and eases into a new stride that enables her to continue. She opens up and leads the pack back home.

My warrior woman takes time for herself. She makes friends with a foam roller in the gym. Stretched, she goes home to eat vege soup on rice. She allows herself a bottle of cider and listens to the wind rattling the sash windows. She snarls quietly at the darkness and wraps the blanket more tightly around her. A cat purrs beside her.