Blood races through arteries, striving to reach hungry cells. The waving flag indicates the “Finish Line” so brain messages can transmit so that lungs can breathe, a heart can beat, intestines can digest, limbs can move; and thus the flag waves on and a life can be.
The strength needed to make it to that finish line increases, and the finish line, all but a foot long distance away. Alternate roads taken to reach hydration to reenergize seem to contain their own barriers. The blood needs an extra push to make it to the water booth, as the veins fight gravity in attempt to drink up on reoxygenated blood for the rest of race. It reaches lungs, sips on its oxygen fix and continues onto the next mile ahead. The body keeps pushing, as the finish line awaits. The heart is thumping, it moves its walls in a strong and steady pace. Lub-dub. Its muscles set in a runner's posture, large strong strides aiming for a longer mile in fewer steps. Messages are transmitted along the heart’s AV and SA nodes, indicating the turns to take and when to take them. Sometimes the lines get fuzzy, and wrong roads are taken, the journey is lengthened, the cells go hungry, some even die.
The brain’s neurotransmitters are the road signs indicating the race’s direction, and maps out the trails to the final destination. At times the messages swapped between neurons play a game of broken telephone and directions are skewed; sometimes they even get lost, and so the body recruits external sources to transmit those messages for them. Often roadside marathon volunteers are called and while one message can get that body up in a swift stride and turn, it takes three bodies (or nurses) to assist or even take over for that road needed to be taken.
The ticking time meter that buzzes the minutes of the race’s time clock, spikes up the adrenaline that surges through the body, and the pace increases with fierce determination. Thus, the fight for life prevails. Sometimes, that clock moves too fast and the racer’s legs can’t reach the finish line before the final numbers tick on by and the meter goes black, indicating the end. Many runners endure, and they make it just as the flag at the finish line begins to wave its way down. Although the seconds ticking the race’s end is battling with their final steps, they manage to hit the mat to a runner’s victory. Even when the ticking seconds flashing on the screen is the victor despite all efforts and attempts of the runner, the entire road taken was witnessed by encouraging cheerleaders and loved ones waving signs and cheering on in support of the race rather than the win. To them the mere living and fighting is a race won. Some lack cheerleaders who knew about their training before the race and just cheer them on as they tend to the safety of the racetrack being ran on They encourage and support the run to live. Sometimes they compress that heart to reboost the marathoner when its heart is weakened and slowed down by the racetrack's obstacles. You don’t need to witness the training to recognize a battle that needs an extra arm, or even a heart for support.
It is my first attempts at a half marathon. Only 3 years ago, I could barely tolerate a run across a block. 1 mile seemed tough, 3 miles seemed like a stretch, 6 miles and my heart might fall from my chest, and 13? Well that wasn't even attainable. Yet here I was, wrestling my way to the finish line of the 13.2 miles.
I’m running a rocky trail, the ground beneath my neon sneakers is a firm, cemented roughness. My stride is steady as my neon gear gently bounces on each graveled bump as it veers in agreement with the trails turns. I pass some runners, and other pass me. Onlookers cheer us on, they tell us we can make it. I maintain a rhythmic motion as mile 7 becomes a skeptical distance ahead. I reach it, but the battle is not yet won; it’s a mere water break. My mind says I can do it, and so does my friend Anna. My heart is thumping undecidedly, and my legs keep moving. Muscles are aching as they struggle to maintain the pace, but not getting the memo about break time, so they keep moving as I flush hydration down my dry throat. Really, it’s my brain that says don’t stop, and so my limbs abide and my heart gives in. Rehydrated and sugared up, I’m at my halfway point, which seems to have taken forever. I keep going. My legs carry my body with determination. I face some more hills, I must push stronger to keep going. I think about the finish line, with its waving flag, my awaiting metal, and the crowd’s congratulatory roars, in glee of my pending accomplishment. I think of the finish line and I up my pace. I bounce over the hills, I use my fellow runners as my motivation; as their strides boost me up, my legs keep moving and my heart starts glowing. The finish line is visible, I pounce the mat under the finish line flag, legs swing upward in victory, and the metal is placed around my neck. My first half marathon complete, and my heart is still pumping, my legs are still holding up my body, my lungs are breathing and I am still whole.
I wasn't the first one, to make it to the finish line, but I won because I made it to the finish line. As I ran to the beats of my music playing in my ears, my mind was occupied with other marathoners I knew. Not the ones on the track with me in now on New York City’s first day of real spring weather, but the ones I encounter every day. The ones fighting the “Life Marathon”. Essentially we all face the obstacles like those in a marathon. We are victors every day that we wake up healthy and our body with all its detailed cells and parts function to activate a productive and healthy human being. For most people it’s easy, like a simple walk in the park. Many often face an occasional hill and push across it. Some must reroute as roadblocks intersect on their life’s journey. Others face an occasional mountain yet they trudge to the top. There are those who face a cliff, they may jump across it and make it to the other side, or they jump and fall, yet they jump and they try.
I gloat on my 13.2 mile triumph. But my run was like a simple flat road, I simply needed move in order to make it across. I got a medal for challenging my body parts voluntarily. I write this piece as my placing a metal and waving a flag to those who run the “Life Marathon”. To those who are faced with the obstacles of thick capillaries, weakened hearts, handicaps, cancers, traumatic injuries, pain, emotional suffering, and any other mountains, hills and cliffs that make running the marathon of living, that bit harder to make to the finish line, or rather to the next day for it all to begin again. I wave this piece as the flag cheering on all those who muster the courage, despite all barriers, stumbling blocks and hindrances, yet still gear up and run the next road that life presents.
