My Achilles are aching. Unsure if I can continue.
I am straining for every breath; each of them a gasp.
Faster and harder than ever before: I'm tired.
In this vast wilderness nothing is kind. Danger lurks.
Insects, howling wind, the Earth itself seems to be out to get me.
Hills, spilled out, further than the eye can see mock, taunt, and chide.
Ahead, beasts of men pound the hard ground with every strong step.
Early they took off in the strenuous thrill of the ancient battle
But they too will meet the wrath of my quick, open gated stride.
I'm a man: fallen, bruised, battered and broken.
If not for the grace of God I could never have started.
But by His mercy and love; by His strength I win Him the Glory.