Still Running

I ran another race this morning and was thoroughly mediocre. Nah, make that pitiful. I finished though, and that's the important thing. I wanted it to be a good race day for me, but I suspected beforehand that it wouldn't. When I ran earlier this week, I struggled so badly that I decided not to run again until today. I have been exhausted and stressed over work and some family matters. I told myself I just needed rest. That was just an excuse, and I knew it about half way through today's run. I was slow because I didn't get ready for it. I didn't put my heart and mind into it. If I want to be faster, I need to work harder at it, plain and simple. If I'm not willing to work for it, then I need to be satisfied with just finishing the race and quit worrying about time. BUT I WANT TO BE FASTER, so I need to get off my candy *** and do something about it.

I gave myself a mental tongue lashing as I hit the finish line, and told myself to refrain from putting on the pity party hat. Why? Because there were way too many shining examples of dedication around me today. There was the first grader who ran and finished only a minute behind me. There was the really young boy who ran a five and a half minute mile in the youth run. There were several 40, 50, 60 and 70-somethings who ran very well. But above all, there was Frank. Remember the elderly fellow I told you about in June who ran in the same race I did? Well, he was back today, and about a minute after I crossed the finish line, he came through the chute, holding his head. Blood was dripping from his face. Somewhere back in the race, Frank fell. He busted his head pretty good. It brought back memories of my spill a few weeks ago. But he kept running...and running...and running. He finished, bloody head and all. He spent time with the medics. An ambulance came, and he had to go with them. Probably for liability reasons. He was walking when he left, so I think he was okay. But he finished. he trudged through several blocks of blood and pain...to finish. God, he's inspiring. He gave me a butt kicking today and didn't even know it. Thank you Frank, for not letting up on me. I hope you're at the next race, too, because I need you kicking my hind end all the way to the finish line. If you can do it, so can I. That's why I'm leaving my pity party hat on the shelf. Frank didn't ask for one, and I shouldn't either.