Towards the end of his Solo Distance run,
Michael Angelo Ruffino achieved a profound level of rage.
He'd been fighting the wind for nearly a mile.
A wind that had been his enemy from the moment he turned at the buoy.
As he approached the Lift Bridge,
and he grew accustomed to the pain,
there was a rhythm.
I wouldn't say that he "settled" into that rhythm.
More accurately, he punched, kicked, and shrieked his way into it.
There was yelling, hard breathing, bending of the oar.
Most of all, there was power - which transmitted from his soul,
up into his shoulders, down his arms, and through the oar to the water.
That boat was moving at the speed and rhythm of rage,
which was made perfectly obvious in his face.
Despite every possible effort made by the wind and the water,
Michael Angelo Ruffino finished fast enough to grab the silver medal in the event that truly separates the men from the boys.
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