Thursday, October 16, 2014

I run because it all starts with a mile...

Running is too tough. It is painful. There is no way I can possibly do it. But, somehow, I run a mile.

There's no way I can run ten miles. It's an absurd distance. I will die. Screw it, I ran a mile once, I'll give this a shot. I pull off ten.

It's absurd to think I can leave my job. I can't do this on my own. I did knock off ten once long ago. I suppose I can at least consider brainstorming an exit plan. 

I'm too old to get back into running. Whatever gift I had left me long ago. I can't get back into that kind of shape again. The muscles will remember. I lace up. I find the me who still has the gift.

Make this decision and you will regret it. You will fail. Maybe, but I've conquered ten miles. I've won races. Most importantly, if I do not try, I will regret it for the rest of my life. I take a shot.

I can never catch him. He's too fast. I'm too old and too slow. I've come this far. I am not done yet. I catch him.

I get knocked down. I am bruised. I am battered. I can't take this any farther than I have.

Then I remember the time I ran a mile. I also remember the time I ran ten miles. I vaguely recall conquering 26.2.

I have a faint memory of qualifying for Boston. If memory serves, I also broke 3 hours for the marathon multiple times. It's a bit fuzzy, but I think I might have also run 50 miles at one point in time.

All of these journeys started with just a mile. I run because it all starts with a mile....

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