The Race

Coming out of the gate with an initial onslaught of adrenaline was the easy part.  All the hype and buildup at the starting line makes it so anyone with a pulse could have started this race strong.  Now though, I feel as if I have been running for many miles, and despite my lack of preparation, I have just found my stride.  I have settled into a steady pace that forces me to believe that no matter how long I run, I will not tire out.  I am a runner who just found rhythm, but has failed to see that he is at the base of a long uphill climb.  Up ahead the road begins to rise, and my body twinges at the feeling it knows lie ahead.  What was once flat ground gradually gives way to incline.  I try not to notice it at first, but my gait is forced to change with the increase in elevation.  My pace slows, the aching begins, and I press on.  For a minute I come to the grim realization that this race is far from over, and I force myself to remember that reaching the finish line is the only option.  I will continue to ascend even if it means constant pain, knowing that if I stop for just one minute, I will collapse, no longer being able to continue.