Finish that race

Thousands of spectators lined the streets with cowbells and blow horns. Bright poster board signs were nothing but a blur as I raced past them down the hill. "Mile 10" I said to myself "it's all down hill from here" and it was. At that point I hurt too much to even enjoy the speedy decent down that hill, and to be honest, mile seven was about the time when I started to catch myself slowing down from the rapid 10 minute mile I had maintained. I had to find motivation to finish, I had to find a reason to keep one foot in front of the other. There, sitting on the marathon route, was a young girl in a wheelchair. I thought to myself if she came out to support us, the least I could do was run this race for her. And then I saw another person in a wheelchair, and another and another. I thanked God for the opportunity to use my legs, to run this race. Every wheelchair bound person gave me the strength to finish... and then I saw my family.

At a moment when I needed them the most, mile 12, I saw my mother and my aunts and uncles. It was fantastic, I ran and gave high fives and hugs. As I neared the finish line, I changed my iPod over to some Hanson so that I could rock out on my way through the finish line. Toward 13.1 the crowd was so loud, it drowned out the Hanson Mmmboping in my ears. With the roar of the crowd and my heart thumping in my ears, I crossed the finish swine... arm's raised all cliche like and everything.

The next goal? Beating my time of 2 hours and 44 minutes and perhaps finishing a mini triathlon... we shall see.