Faster than the others, and smoother.
Progress was good, sure and certain.
The drive was taken in skilled and measured rhythm. No thought missed in allowing for possibilities, which were endless.
It was tiring in a good way.
A task turned into a sport.
Any imperfect clinging to the curve of the road was noted to be improved at the earliest opportunity.
The hardest part was accounting for the actions of the others who were merely getting from “A to B” with no sense of purpose, joy and reward in doing so.
The difference between touching a bow to the strings carelessly as if putting a coffee mug down on a big wooden table, and playing the symphony for violin.
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