or How I Ran My First Marathon

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“I was glad when the second hour ended. How could I possibly do another? Two days of hard exercise had drained my reserves of energy. But I wanted this. I needed this. So I refilled the water bottle, changed my sweatband … Now we would see what I was really made of. What I discovered at the end of that third hour is that I was made of sweat and muscle, determination and grit—all the qualities required of a marathon runner.”

“…Once I crested the actual top of the hill, I was hit by a steady blast of wind. It blew hard enough to stop me dead in my tracks. Then a rumbling started in the pit of my belly, rose up through my chest, and burst from my mouth in the form of what only can be described as a primal growl. It came out in defiance of the wind, of the cold, of the snow, and in defiance of everyone who had ever told me, “You cannot.” The growl came out so hard and loud that it split the wind. Putting my head down and pushing with every ounce of strength remaining in me, I stepped into that opening. I moved. I was running again.”
“I had thought about this day a thousand times in a thousand ways…but not once did I think of rain. It was the one variable I had not anticipated.”