Some days I am king of the world. Nothing can stop me. My body is a temple and nothing can desecrate its grounds. Then the very next day I will hear the familiar rattling sound of death, creeping ever closer through the shadows. My feet scrabble on the loose surface,  I can not get my self moving. It will not be long before I stop running. Sit down in a comfortable, sunny spot and wait to see what keeps gaining on me despite my best efforts. For I should want to go like any great man. Acknowledging that he is beaten, calm and collected enough to kick whatever has caught him in the balls one last time before the end.