When I was a young, my mom would capture my attention with tales of her youth; how she could beat anyone in a footrace. Including the boys. She would say, with stone-cold logic, “If anyone ever got ahead of me, I would just speed up.”
And I’d get this image... red hair in the wind, freckles smiling, long legs, bare feet pattering through the dirt and hills of Missouri... leaving opponents in the dust.
Leaving troubles behind.