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Running the good race


Navigating through trying to figure out my husband’s ailments is a struggle. With all the doctors’ visits, the waiting for appointments, thinking it’s been figured out but then finding us going back to the drawing board is frustrating.
Sometimes it’s like I’m running in a marathon. In my mind’s eye, I can see the finish line just a few feet ahead of me. As I am about to cross it, the officials appear out of nowhere and grab the finish line and take off with it, moving it further along to where I can barely see the waving banner.  I stop in my tracks, sweat poring off of my brow, completely out of breath, I am utterly defeated.
As I’m bent over, staring at my blistering feet, I see a brief glimpse of how far I have run.  I straighten up, trying to catch my breath. Some runners whiz past me, but some stop to point out the first aid station to get patched up. As I go to it, I’m met with cups of water on the side lines. As I drink down the refreshment, I quit hearing my heartbeat thudding in my ears. I become aware of the music being piped in, Miley Cyrus’ The Climb. I also hear the cheering of the crowd, encouraging me to press on.
I also realize that the marathon is not a competition, just because some runners cross the finish line, it is their own accomplishment. Each runner has their own prize, so I can celebrate their victories without it taking anything away.
What I thought was my finish line was a check point, getting me closer to my goal. My marathon may take sudden different paths, maybe I need to run the same course again but with different terrain.  I notice that I’m developing a runner’s body, my muscles and endurance are getting stronger. What used to be devastating to me is just an emotional “owie”.
As I pick up my pace, I hear another inspirational song Billy Joel’s You’re Only Human (Second Wind). I see that my sponsor outfit is not as faded and wrinkled; its colors are vibrant, reminding me why I’m in the marathon in the first place. 

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