She’d been running all her life.
When she died, she was running. Kept right on running, actually.
People would wonder how she could still be running (being dead and all) but instead of asking that, they would ask,
“Why won’t you stop running?”
“Because I can’t.”
“I’m running late.”
“But before you cross, listen to me!”
“Oh, boy, what now?”
“Crossing the bridge won’t be easy. Hope you brought plenty of food.”
“Is it a long journey?”
“No, but every few minutes, a gnome will stop you and ask for something to eat. Better give them something than argue.”