the 4 days

technically, its my last week. I have no more weekends till my thesis is handed in, chopped and signed by Lynn Dyale, sealed in an envelope and sent off to examiners. My fate is as good as sealed in those envelopes.

remember while you ran your 2.4km test in school, NS? Fuck man, can u remember how u felt during the last lap (if u did it on a 400m traack)??? lungs collapsing.

knees crumbling

heart pounding so fanatically that the chest just wants to burst

throat in a knot, pleading for hydration

palms sweaty

vision slightly blurred

gut in turmoil, making you want to just throw up

I do not know about others, but that is how i run my last lap. right to the end. my destiny. Its all in MY hands. I have only myself to blame (or reward) for the fruits of my labour.

as much as i would like to walk through the last lap, it will not happen. i will not give myself the luxury of finishing my 2.4km run's last lap by strutting my ass pass the finishing line.

For fucks sake, I am going to cross it with a trial of flames. and then regurgitate out my guts in Lynn Dyale's office. wahahaha!

'Gentleman, this is your last lap. Good luck.'