You may go so far.

There’s a little man in charge of the course of my life and he stands by a mile-marker with his clipboard and pen that he clicks back and forth.
I run at top speed up the road, heart pounding, breath heaving, all cells pointed ahead to go go get there, farther than ever before – ready to push past the sound barrier, the limits, the stops – but as soon as I get to that little man with his watch and his pen and his clipboard and mustached. I am stopped in my tracks – like the Time Bandits running into that invisible boundary to the Fortress of Ultimate Darkness. Nose slammed into glass, body stopped short. He puts his hand along the barrier, looks down his nose at me and says, “You may go so far” and I trudge back to the start, slowly now and limping, preparing to make another run at that track.

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