"Out of the silver heat mirage he ran. The sky burned, and under him the paving was a black mirror reflecting sun-fire. Sweat sprayed his skin with each foot strike so that he ran in a hot mist of his own creation. With each slap on the softened asphalt, his soles absorbed heat that rose through his arches and ankles and the stems of his shins. It was a
carnival of pain, but he loved each stride because running distilled him to his essence and the heat hastened this distillation."
I shall endeavor to thoroughly forget all about this 'carnival of pain' until next time I am chasing a bus down the street & hurl the bizarre epithet in the presence of bewildered onlookers and passers~by.