Ten days from now, it will all be over.
Months and months of training. Miles and more miles logged. One pair of running shoes retired. Another quickly initiated...
26.2 is just around the corner, and in all honesty, the last few weeks have been brutal - surprisingly, the most difficult thus far. I'm spent. I'm done. Getting out of bed has become nothing short of impossible. For weeks I have stuggled with insatiable hunger, perpetual exhaustion and looming discouragement.
My ipod crashed at the end of June and since then, I have run in silence. No music, just thoughts. Mostly His voice and mine. But recently another voice, a cancerous voice, has tormented.
It prods. It pushes. It patronizes.
"Why are you doing this?" The quiet whisper has brushed my ears and lingered in my thoughts with every pounding step.
"WHY are you doing this?" it asks again.
louder. Louder. LOUDER. Was that its voice or mine?
WHY AM I DOING THIS????
After weeks of frustration, I've had enough. This morning, I finally made the choice. This morning, I pressed into the silence and rolled out of bed. This morning, the music returned.
A familiar song. A familiar route... Up my street and onto the trail. I powered on. I pressed in. With tears and triumph I steadily... confidently pounded my way up the hill I'd once called "big killer," then "adversary," now... "friend."
"I run for hope. I run to feel. I run for the truth, for all that is real..."
louder. Louder. LOUDER.
"I run for your mother, your sister, your daughter, your wife...
I run for you and me, my friend, I run for life."
Fist in the air once again... praising. REJOICING... I reached the summit and found my answer.
For Christi. For Taylor. For Mrs. White. For Maya. For my Mom. For my Grandma. For me.
for Pat. For Pat. FOR PAT.
I run for life.