Sixteen weeks, maybe more maybe less, you fought. You struggled. You set your alarm before the sun. You made running a part time job. Maybe you lost some friends over a refused invatation to happy hour, because you’d rather be running. You know what ninety percent humidity feels like, and you know what negative ten and snow feels like. You are a warrior.
I know what it’s like to push yourself. I know what it’s like to question if you’ll make it – but this isn’t about me. Do you see what you did? You took doubt, hardship, Mother Nature, and you made them work for you. That person who questioned your motives in the beginning, you’ve inspired them (if they admit it or not).
If no one else has told you, know that I am proud of you. Twenty-six point two is no easy task. You worked your ass off, and you finished; come hell or high water, you finished. The blisters, broken toe nails, chafing in unfortunate areas, do you even have nipples left? But all that is worth it now.
Do me a favor, remember the starting line, how did you feel? Scared? Nervous? Maybe a little crazy? Now move to the middle of the race, how about them crowds!?! Did you feel like you were floating? And that one spectator at mile sixteenish, he was a sight, wasn’t he? Remember the finish line? Of course you do. All that training was for this moment. Did you smile? Throw your hands up? Fall to your knees thanking a higher power for the strength? Victory, sweet victory.
During your marathon you’ve changed more than your leg muscles. Everyone you’ve come in contact with is touched by your journey. You’ve probably inspired one, if not more, of your friends to run at least a mile. Maybe they continued and started there own journey, or maybe they just appreciated what you undertook that much more. Marathoner, you are making the world better. Your positive energy, upbeat attitude, and killer playlist.
Thank you marathoner. Thank you for inspiring us. Thank you for showing us that with effort anything can be accomplished. Thank you for pushing yourself- and in turn, pushing us. Without your stories, ours don’t matter. Wear your medal, show off your swag. You’re going places marathoner, but maybe in a cab, until your legs fully recover.