“Seriously, Cap. I’m just about ready to die here, lad.” “Come on, Gibs, you’ve got this,” he called over his shoulder. “Keep the heart rate up, lad. You’re on the last mile.” “That’s what you said three miles ago,” I wailed, while I contemplated throwing myself in over a ditch and letting the cows have me. “And I don’t ‘got this,’ Johnny. I don’t ‘got this’ at all.”
