In actuality, it's just 1 more week.

It will seemingly pass by faster than any other week. So fast, in fact, that we won't even notice it when we are done.

Perhaps we feel that way because nights meld into days and time becomes an unquantifiable concept.

That last burst is supposed to be the most glorious one. Sprint! they always tell us.

And sprint we will must, as we drag these hidden energies from unseen depths and push these muscles to feverish pain.

Let us just hope we don't trip and fall somewhere along the final streak.

How anti-climatic that would be.