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!

4 comments:

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

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

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  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. :)

    ReplyDelete

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