The distance stretched out ahead of him, endless. But still, he couldn't go back. To go back would be failure. He could only press on - the promise of the end of the road spurred him on.
Before he begun this journey, he had planned for an eternity. It felt different, from safety. He hadn't contemplated the physical extremes he would go through. In the calculated calm of planning, he couldn't imagine the pain over every inch of his body. He had put off leaving until the situation became unbearable, until the only thing worse than making this journey would be to stay in place.
The first step was the hardest, leaving warmth and comfort, and venturing into a cold unfeeling world.
On and on, the journey went - he could barely remember a time before he started walking, and couldn't dare to hope for a day he would be able to rest.
Getting out of the bed to go to the kitchen for some Nurofen seemed like such a good idea.
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