Finish Line

As I approached the hill I thought to myself, "I can't go any further. These hills are killing me." My breathing was heavy, labored. Sweat trickled down my freckled forehead and stung my eyes. I was no longer aware of the grunts and loud exhalations that I was letting out. The blisters that were bothering me so much in the beginning were now overshadowed by the pain running down the back of my legs. All I could think about was reaching that finish line.



Pushing through the pain, I made it up the hill. At the point of exhaustion I have always thought back to being in labor and the nurse telling me just one more push about a thousand times. I told myself the same thing on every long run: just one more hill, just one more corner, just one more song, just one more mile.



I rounded the bend and then saw it on the horizon: the crowd of people cheering, the digital clock ticking away the milliseconds, the tables set up with water and bagels. Finally! I was on a straightaway, and the finish line looked to be less than a half mile off. Normally, this distance would be no big deal, but after running more than I ever had in my life, even that seemed an insurmountable distance to cover.



The other runners must have gotten some kind of burst of energy from catching sight of the finish line, but not me. I struggled to even continue running at all. As others passed, pushing out quick strides, I tried to take my mind off the pain by focusing on the beat of the techno music that was pulsing through my headphones.



I wished I could walk the rest but did not want to walk past all those people with eager faces packed along the roadside leading up to the finish - not after I had almost run the whole thirteen miles. The walk of shame, I thought. The finish line still loomed far in the distance. Deciding I needed to stop looking at it, I ran looking down at my feet and the pavement racing backwards under my feet for the next minute or so. I finally looked up and was pleased to discover that this time it actually seemed closer.



The hoots of encouragement and applause became louder as I got even closer. Sweet relief lay just ahead. Out of habit, I glanced at the clock as I passed the finish line. I knew I was not going to have my best time, since the distance I ran was much longer than my prior runs.



The time did not really matter, though. After starting with my first 5k run just a few short months ago, I had just run a half marathon for the first time. I grabbed a well-earned bottle of water and stretched my legs. I aimed for a quick recovery. After all, I had to start thinking about my next race.