Thursday, July 7, 2011

Crossing the finish line

It all started with a dare.

Endless training: early mornings, late nights.

Calloused feet, sore legs, rickety knees.

Questions, answers, gear, fuel, hot showers.

One cold January morning, I waited.

Nervous, anxious to start, heart pumping.

The gun, the rush, the race.

My face greeted by cold air,

my feet effortlessly doing what I

could never do as a child.

My boys waiting at Mile Ten,

cameras in hand, tears flooding me,

the end so very near now.

As the sound of pounding drums

greeted my last turn, I rejoiced.

I caught my breathe, geared up

and made my legs go faster.

Thirty-seven years. Six months. Three hours.

The sight of that finish line

is something I will never forget.

I will never underestimate myself again.

Ever crossed the line?  Tell us about it!  Visit Melissa at Making Things Up to find out more about Six Word Fridays!


  1. I'm proud of you just reading this. My body does NOT run, so I'm doubly impressed.

  2. I second Kitch's comment! GO YOU!
    That finish line is an inspiring one.

  3. You go, girl! I'm always so happy to read your racing posts.

    Did I tell you I'm thinking of taking up running? I've been looking into the Couch to 5K program and will look to you for support and inspiration. :)


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