Mad dogs are running about. Nipping at my heels. Tearing off small chunks of my flesh.
I am older now. Not quite as fast as in the past. More often than not, blood is shed.
But I keep moving.
Looking over my shoulder with less frequency now; I learned that what is behind me is meaningless.
All that matters is what is ahead - and there is not enough.
Heart pumping, lungs burning, dreams fading but still visible.
All I can do is try.