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Meme-oires 08: A Moment in Great Detail
It's Sunday, October 7th, 2007, approximately 9:35 am. My first half-marathon.
I'm tired and sore, I've been running for over two hours in the cool Victoria air. The last ten minutes I've only been able to keep from stopping by focusing on another runner and trying to keep up with them (the point is to keep up with them, but since I can use any runner to do that, I picked a pretty woman with a nice backside).
I've just rounded the last corner and the finish line is in sight. Suddenly the ability to finish the race is no longer hypothetical - I can actually see the finish line.
I pick up the pace, using the last of my energy reserves for one last burst of speed. Along with the last of this energy, a sense of accomplishment, of victory. Proof that I can be healthy enough to do this. A wash of endorphins flows through me as I cross the finish line.
For the rest of the day, I can barely walk, but I don't care.
I'm tired and sore, I've been running for over two hours in the cool Victoria air. The last ten minutes I've only been able to keep from stopping by focusing on another runner and trying to keep up with them (the point is to keep up with them, but since I can use any runner to do that, I picked a pretty woman with a nice backside).
I've just rounded the last corner and the finish line is in sight. Suddenly the ability to finish the race is no longer hypothetical - I can actually see the finish line.
I pick up the pace, using the last of my energy reserves for one last burst of speed. Along with the last of this energy, a sense of accomplishment, of victory. Proof that I can be healthy enough to do this. A wash of endorphins flows through me as I cross the finish line.
For the rest of the day, I can barely walk, but I don't care.