I can feel the hand of fate bearing down on me like a train, it’s vibrations shaking me to the core. Still I try to run. I run as fast as my legs will take me. I don’t care about the direction as log as I am able to put a sliver of distance between me and the inevitable. One second delayed means I can buy ten. If I can manage ten seconds I have a shot at sixty.
Yet as fate and I play this age-old game, I have witnessed the world around me change. I am no longer certain of my resolve. I could use a rest from the hardships life has brought. Maybe it’s finally about time to give in and let fate catch up.
Mile 29 
When did fate become the monster that lurks in the closet; the shadow that continues to move when you are still? Perhaps that hand you felt clutching the space – where once, you stood – was none other than a friend trying to find you once more.
So, which is worse: not knowing what you’re running from or not knowing where you’re headed to?