6.8

Do you know that particular scream in your lungs, the tight feeling of cold fingers pulling hard on your throat, the ugly panting noise bleeding through the weak wisp of wind around your ears, the angry spikes of pain your heart makes behind your ribs, truly caged in this time, unable to escape but tunneling and tearing and desperately dying to end the seemingly endless agony? I can feel my knees exploding and crying, failing and dying, yet I push on, ignoring them. There is no slavering beast behind me, no reward ahead. I press on.
Exercise.