Adrift

I was sitting on what seemed like a paper plane, with my seat belt securely fastened, drifting through space, 30,000 feet above Indiana or Ohio.  Actually I didn’t really know where I was, but it was very dark on the other side of the thick oval window and I imagined my hand would instantaneously freeze off if stuck my arm into cold air flying past at 500 miles an hour. 

No Drama

About to cross the finish line

After twenty miles, I slowly crossed the Willis Avenue Bridge and entered the Bronx.  Despite the deep thumping base and encouraging words from DJ Leon Martin on the corner of 135^th Street, I was questioning why I was doing this.  My knees ached, my left foot felt like a nail was being hammered through the bottom of my Saucony running shoes into my heel on every step, and my right calf was cramping so bad I would repeatedly screamed out, “FUCK!” every 400 feet, it was like I had Tourette's. What was I trying to prove? 

Running Down a Dream

Despite being sick for the past three weeks and just finishing a course of antibiotics, I still plan to run the New York Marathon Sunday. I called my pulmonologist yesterday to ask for help as my asthma wasn't cooperating either. He responded hesitantly, you're still running? He doesn't get it.  The 26.2 mile course travels through all five boroughs and is lined with millions of cheering New Yorkers, then finishes in Central Park. I will be one of 40,000 other runners on Sunday chasing a dream.