Its a long and lonely road to success (OPEN)

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson ran, when everyone around him walked, or even stood still. He was a bright flame amidst the dull monotony of the cold early morning of Coruscant. He weaved around pedestrians, legs and arms pumping in a steady rhythm as he pressed on...sweat stains accumulating on his workout clothes despite the cold. His breath came out as steam, like a galloping steed as he pressed against the burn of his exhausted muscles. People barely moved to get out of his way, and he fought at times against the grain of the early morning shuffle, finding his way around onlookers who wondered what madness had possessed him.

He ran.

He ran until he couldn't feel his feet.

He ran until each breath churned in his throat and chest like battery acid.

The finish line was an abstract...not something so much as he could see, but more of a concept...like salvation or redemtion. Around him, the peripheral sight of the city melted into a haze of tunnel vision. All he could see was forward.

And still...he ran.

Occasionally, he would stumble and fall. Occasionally, he would get knocked down. Occasionally, he broke his stride to double over and vomit...until he now only dry heaved.

But still...he ran.

He ran, because running never hurt anything. Running built a man, and not only his body. It built his mind, his spirit....and a man knows exactly what kind of man he is, when he runs until he can't run anymore.

Dreamers never find their limit.

So, as the chill of morning slowly began to turn warmer...Jackson Guthrie DeWitt ran.

[Jackson DeWitt]

The path stretched onward, and still Jackson ran...though the strain showed in each step. His face was set in a mask of pain and somber determination, eyes fierce as they stared fire straight ahead at his unseen goal. In the distance...the huge dome of the Senate building loomed, rising above the buildings nearby. Muscles straining to the point of collapse, Jackson slowed to a halt, standing at the perimeter of the immense plaza adjacent to the building. Rows and rows of immense statues stared down at him, filling the moment with a sense of grandiose meaning. He stared back at them, chest heaving with his prior exertions. He didn't know the names of the Great Men whose visages he now saw, though his mind gave them different names:

TOO SHORT

TOO STUPID

TOO WEAK

TOO SLOW

TOO POOR

They were the giants of adversity, that looked down on Jackson that Coruscant morning. They were not evil, but they were all wrong. Jackson stared back at them, one by one...and then sprinted as hard as he could, toward the senate building. It was a good 200 meters away, and Jackson's arms and legs pumped with the kind of inexorable motion of a locomotive, his lips peeled back, and teeth locked together with the kind of insane determination of a man who laughs at the pain that mocks his progress. He growled with each stride, a terrible sound to cause each of the Great Men to cast their doubts away. His muscles burned and tears ran down his red face as he charged ahead, eyes set at the top of a long and intimidating series of stairs, which led to the senatorial rotunda.

Pushed to the limit, against all odds...he reached the the foot of his personal mountain. The stairs above him loomed, as his legs slowly began to drive him upwards...

[Zeke]

Zeke sat atop one of the large statues, looking around at Coruscant, missing Arcan IV and the jungles that had created The Toughest Run, his old obstacle course. Coruscant just didn't offer the same running experience. A constant tap drew Zeke's attention to the people below, most notably Jackson DeWitt. Even now he was working as hard as he could, sprinting down the corridor of statues to the stairs. Zeke watched with interest. Could he take the stairs after that sprint?

[Jackson DeWitt]

Jackson hit the stairs, and his forward momentum slowed to a crawl. He leaned into the incline, each step up was a small war against his body and gravity. He pumped and huffed, straining for the top. Midway through the flight up, just when the finish seemed within reach, Jackson tumbled forward, landing across the steps.

"Aaagh!!"

He grimaced, grabbing at his left thigh...the muscle screaming iron tight as he lay on the steps...

[Zeke]

Zeke winced and jumped off the statue. He hit the ground lightly, then sprinted up the steps to the Jedi hopeful.

"You ok? How long have you been running?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Get back, Zeke! I'm not finished!"

Jackson growled through clenched teeth, hand still clutched over his pulled hamstring.

[Zeke]

Zeke stepped back, hands up in the air.

"Fine...fine..."

He was still worried.

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Aaaaaagh...."

Jackson threw a hand out, catching a step above him, and slowly drew himself up to his feet, favoring his right leg. With a severe limp, he began his trip upward again, faltering half a dozen times as he bore down on his goal.

"Come on!"

He dropped to a knee...rising again.

"Come on!!"

He fell forward, bracing himself up with his hands. White-knuckled, he kept going, this time...climbing his way up.

"I can do this!!!"

A shaky hand cleared the last stair, wavering in the air before slapping against terra firma. It pressed...pulling Jackson's beaten and exhausted body behind it.

"GOOOOOO!!!!"

With a last gasp of effort, Jackson fell across the steps, lying on the concrete. He coughed and wheezed, rolling on his back. Through his pained gasps...an undefeatable smile began to form as he lay unmoving.

[Zeke]

Zeke's face entered his field of vision.

"What good is determination if you kill yourself over it?"

[Jackson DeWitt]

He lay on his back, laughing through his heavy breathing.

"What goods a dream...if it ain't worth dyin over?"

[Zeke]

"Slammed! Good point."

Zeke sat down on the steps and looked out over the walkway with all the statues.

"Your determination is admirable. But don't push yourself too far over your limits at once. Go slow, expand little by little. He who acquires his skills quickly is the first to fall."

[Jackson DeWitt]

"Zeke...I don't feel alive if I'm not pushin myself."

Jackson grimaced, sitting up a bit...still in pain from his pulled hamstring.

"I can't let up, never. If I let up for a second, then I'll run the risk of livin life with regrets. As long as I'm out here, where I know I'm leavin everything I got, and there ain't no room for debate on it, then I know I've done it all. Even if I don't make it...I can still look myself in the mirror."

[Zeke]

"I'm not saying let up. Keep pushing...but less so."

He looked to Jackson with a half smile.

"Just back off a little bit or I'm worried you may have more to worry over than a pulled muscle. You can't go for broke if you're broke yourself."