Branches slapped against my arm. The brush was too thick. I couldn’t see a thing, but I couldn’t stop. I’d never catch up. A sudden opening left me with three steps before the drop. I never slowed. Boughs broke my fall. Loose stone groaned under my feet. Something else crashed through the brush, off to the left. He was close. I ran again, taking great leaps whenever I could, hoping to avoid any holes.
Recently I had a conversation with someone, and in the midst of that conversation, I realized how in recent times I’ve frequently said the phrase “I need a win,” and how true that is for me.