It’s never just a race.
It’s a crap-ton of training. It’s navigating a family, a job, a life to get the miles in that make the start line the real finish. The race is icing on the Ironman cake. If you finish, you lick up the sweetness of enduring the miles on race day – and everything that got you there. If you don’t, you try again – two weeks later.
And on Race Day Take 2, when you see your race-mate who is your beloved sister and your one-of-a-kind coach at the finish line you think of a little girl, the child of your beloved sister who left us at her own half marathon finish line. You weep for the loss.
You weep for the love. You weep for the hole that can never, ever be filled. Along with her mother, you think of her father and her siblings and you send all of your everything to them. You think of your amazing, no-questions-asked, 100% supportive spouse, your children, and your teammates. You think of your hopes and fears and mistakes and for one moment everything converges into total aliveness. Such a contrast to the indescribable loss.
And yet she is here.
She is all around us, whispering with God’s breath still warm in her ear.
Go. Do. Be.
Fight the Good fight.
Finish the race.
Keep the faith.
And do it again. No excuses.