I’m sweating despite the early autumn chill, my heat is thumping in my chest and my breathing is labored. I’m running on a small path along the river, everything is damp from the rain, my steps squelch in the mud. To my right a single row of trees and beyond that the dim turquoise waters of the Rhein, ever flowing past me in the opposite direction. To my left a field of corn, the green stalks rising up to meet the milky sky that covers everything in the distance. I look up for a moment to see a mountain rising up out of the fog, it’s dark, undulating profile and the jagged outline of a few trees and a radio mast stand out starkly against the white sky. But it’s just a thin sliver of the mountain that is visible, the mists swirling around it making it seem ethereal. I gaze upon that mountain where it floats in the sky for a moment then focus my eyes on the road in front of me. Onwards, onwards to the place where I will allow myself to rest.