The organizers of the Indianapolis Monumental Marathon posed a good question: “What do you think about right before you hear, ‘GO!’?”
My answer:
Every time, without fail, I think of how far I’ve come since I started running.
It’s hard to measure what this sport has given me – physically, mentally, and spiritually. I think back to the unhealthier version of myself, the one who was a little less happy, tired much of the time, and maybe just a little bit lost. It’s not that I was falling off a deep end – but I wasn’t whole.
At the start line on those early mornings, part tired, part buzzing with nerves, I dedicate the race to that version of me, may I never be her again. Knowing I could be anywhere else, doing anything else – but probably still sleeping – I remind myself that I choose this. And I love this. Running re-made me. I’m her, but not her.
In her wake, I feel stronger, and more energetic. More capable. More purposeful. Without meaning to, I think of her at every start line, and quite often, also at the finish. Without her, I wouldn’t know how far I’ve come.