Fifteen Minutes to Live
Muscles burning, lungs straining, stomach cramping. My head feels loose and heavy as it slumps to the side. I am unable to hold my body rigid and my military-esque posture fades to a puddle of slop.
Each step I take is painful and seems, on its own, pointless. The line will never come, and I have already broken down.
But the line always comes. No matter how painful, how hopeless it feels to strive after that line that sits so far away, the line always comes.
From the starting horn, caught in a mass of humanity reaching forward in a million directions, I establish a path. Eventually the chaos subsides and an eery silence falls over us. In silence we continue on, doing the hard damn work to get to the next junction.
Chaos again as our path must adapt to waves and currents, navigating obstacles to stay on course. Feet search for solid ground while we all strain to find our balance. Disoriented and confused, we climb onto the land and set off for the next leg of the journey.
Smooth loneliness now, as our legs churn endlessly into the open expanse ahead. Always feeling strong, momentum carries forth greater effort, the internal battle begins. Some energy must be saved for the last leg of the journey, but caught in the moment of incredible power, only short-term thinking can prevail. Struggling mightily against the urge to struggle too mightily, on and on over the next hilltop and into the next valley.
Then it begins: the finish line in site on the final leg of the journey. The body breaks down. The mind begins to lose hope. One more step.
One more step.
When all hope is gone, the line appears. Re-energized, I find the strength to drag myself across. On the other side there is only love.
And the line always comes.
