It could be the scads of zombie/horror/slasher films that necessarily arrive with the dawn of October that triggered this thought:
I wonder what it's like to run for your life.
I mean like really, really running top-speed from what could be, potentially, a gruesome bloody end. A limb-tearing, flesh-shredding death. Involving, I dunno, a T-Rex...or a guy in a hockey mask.
The fangs of death dripping at your worn Keds.
Lungs bursting, your throat catching.
I mean, what would you be thinking about? Would you be kicking yourself for skipping out on the gym all season? Would you ever reach the point where you just couldn't take it anymore and you'd gladly choose a quick death over running one more second? I personally loathe running (I wish I liked it) so this would be an awful way to go. Running and running and running and then - dead. Damn.
Thankfully, it mostly just happens in the movies.
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