Faster and faster, the cool air whips and stings my face and burns a trail down my throat. My feet pound the leaves beneath me in a a steady rhythm, and everything around me encircles me. Bushes reach their hands out out at my knees as I pass, and my arms are cut by the bark of the trees beside me, leaving a steady burn. The underbrush seems to close in on my feet and encircle them, intertwining their leaves around my ankles, tripping me, slowing me down. The cramp in my side pulses and burns and my heartbeat is dancing erratically in my ears. Every inch of my body aches and my lungs are screaming for air, my legs begging for a break. Every easy turn I make is easier for my pursuers. I can feel them gaining on me, so close they could reach out and tap my shoulder.
My back arches forward and my entire body follows suit, lurching to what i hope is out of reach. panic electrifies every inch of me, but somehow i can't run any faster. in fact, i can't tell if i'm even moving anymore. i know it's almost over, the chase is nearly finished. the exhilaration is gone and i feel as if i'm dead, hollow, a ghost. adrenaline is replaced by a seeping cold and i know it's here, i know i've lost. i feel numb and my chest rises and falls far too deeply. i'm a man that should be dead once again. i sigh and shake my head, knowing i'll try again tomorrow. tomorrow, i assure myself, i will win.
alternatively titled "the thrill of the moment"
