as you gasp for breath,
at this moment, you question
your sanity: you are only one-third done.
But you are my rock.
And you speed away, the
background, our nation’s history,
a blur to you. I scream and yell and try
desperately to capture this moment, your moment,
on film. And wait for your return. And watch
and scream with the hundreds of others
unable to ignore the power of the body, of the
Moment, of the feeling of conquering – fear, doubt,
self-consciousness. They are dissolved here
at our feet, with each stroke, each stride, they fade. And
you, all of you, are stronger.
You return.
Strong, solid, amazing.
And you are off, running, pounding the earth
with the solidity of your form.
I make my way to the end, to wait, to cheer, to
be caught up in the emotion of the finish,
The final push.
You come through, jubilant, triumphant.
I run to you, but step back to watch
you and him and her and everyone
soaked in the sweat of their efforts
gleaming in the sun, radiating with the
power of what was accomplished. And in
that moment, I am thankful for the hot day, the sweat
that hides my quiet tears.
Copyright (c) 2008
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