Every breath hurt like hell. Each was shallow. I felt the darkness creep in.

He was there for me. He could use me, if things didn’t work out. He was there to claim me, if the stars didn’t align.

I gave him a nod. It wasn’t the first time we’d brushed elbows. We were well acquainted.

He’d paid me a few visits. A couple broken elbows, a fractured hip, a fractured sacrum, a fracture in the right femur, and three broken ribs were the most memorable ones. This visit was different, though.

Before he was barely a whisper. Our time together was fleeting. But, this wasn’t a brief visit. This was a proper sit down.

He was darker this time around. He was closer. He lingered longer.

I closed my eyes and took a shallow breath. The pain came in a hurry. Another dark time came to mind.

I was 35 miles in. My peripheral vision was fading. So was hope. Things were shutting down.

I stumbled, staggered, and limped. I was in a fog. I was neck deep in the quagmire.

I slogged forward. Compromised, I took a step. I managed a few inches. I had to stay ahead of the darkness.

I opened my eyes and let the shallow breath out. I glanced down at the tubes running out of my arms. I heard the hiss of the oxygen tank helping my poorly operating lungs. He was grinning darkly at the foot of my hospital bed.

This was a race. I could capitulate or I could move forward. I couldn’t recall the last time I’d done the former.

I took another shallow breath. I let it out. I took another.

I shut my eyes again. I was 45 miles in this time. I was still there. I was still standing.

I made things really small. I took small steps. I took small breaths.

I lost myself. I gained a stride. I claimed a few more. The darkness fell behind.

A smile of my own emerged. I opened my eyes and his gaze met mine. He glared back at me and took a step back.

He had forgotten something. He forgot I was a runner. I could handle a little death. But, a little death wasn’t going to be enough.