A month before my first marathon,
one of my ankles was injured and this meant not running for two weeks,
leaving me only two weeks to train. Yet, I was determined to go ahead.
I remember back to my 7th year in school. In my first.
class, the teacher required us to run laps and then hit a softball.
I didn't do either well. He later informed me that I was ＂not athletic＂.
The idea that I was ＂not athletic＂ stuck with me for years.
When I started running in my 30s,
I realized running was a battle against myself,
not about competition or whether or not I was athletic.
It was all about the battle against my own body and mind. A test of wills!
The night before my marathon,
I dreamt that I couldn't even find the finish line.
I woke up sweating and nervous, but ready to prove something to myself.
Shortly after crossing the start line,
my shoe laces became untied.
So I stopped to readjust. Not the start I wanted!
At mile 3, I passed a sign: ＂GO FOR IT, RUNNERS!＂.
By mile 17, I became out of breath and the once injured ankle hurt badly.
Despite the pain, I stayed the course walking a bit and then running again.
By mile 21, I was starving!
As I approached mile 23, I could see my wife waving a sign.
She is my biggest fan.
She never minded the alarm clock sounding at 4. or questioned my expenses on running.
I was one of the final runners to finish.
But I finished! And I got a medal.
In fact, I got the same medal as the one that the guy who came in first place had.
Determined to be myself, move forward, free of shame and worldly labels,
I can now call myself a ＂marathon winner＂.