It began, one joyful bound followed by the next.  With the comforting pitter-patter of a companion alongside, step by step quickly faded into mile after mile.  The drizzle soaked us from the outside, and our own sweat from the inside, but it went unnoticed.  Nearly ten miles had passed before the twinge in my right quad would signal the beginning of fatigue.  My thoughts turned to the conversation to ignore what my body wanted me to hear.  With a bit of tightness in my calf, "My fore-foot strike will be the death of me" I thought to myself.   The stories continued to be told, and each conversation, full of laughter, was a pleasant distraction. 

As we pressed on ever closer to the end point, the less distracting the once pleasant conversation became.  My ever deteriorating muscles, argued with me to stop, and pleaded for something less demanding.  Somewhere during the 19^th mile, for the first time since I had begun training for this distance, I seriously questioned my ability to finish.  "Can I finish the next 5miles? What about 7.2?" My thoughts quickly drifted to the crazy but delightful ultra-runners.  I have no clue how they get through 80 miles and can stand thinking they ONLY have 20 to go!

With the passing miles, as I fell quiet, my companion began to sense my exhaustion.  She tried to fill my head with thoughts similar to that which made me giggle, or were comforting the first two and a half hours.  She told stories, and hummed soothing my mind from the pain, and back to the enjoyment of what we were accomplishing. Still I had nothing to say, and wasn't sure I fully understood what she was saying, nor was I making any sense when I did try to speak.  An aching feeling in my sternum set in, and I began to feel as if I were to speak I would burst into uncontrollable tears; I was fighting just to think straight. 

My thoughts were fully focused on the forward motion that had been so fluid and carefree only 20 minutes earlier.  I longed to be finished, and wondered how the heck I was going to pull this and then some off at nearly one and a half minutes per mile faster.  My thoughts turned out to be more than just thoughts, bust something I had said out loud. She responded by telling me it would be different.  I sure as heck hope he is right!

 When I could finally see the road we had only to cross to the finish I began to feel like such a baby, and wonder why it was so hard.  It wasn't a leg screaming burn that we know all to well from racing, but a constant nag that makes you wonder how you are still moving. 

Looking back I think about how this run affected me, and I know that it has made me stronger and more able to accomplish my goals.  Also it showed me what I believed to be true months ago the first time I watched a marathon from the eyes of someone longing to challenge that distance.  In this race nothing is going to be handed to me, I will have to work toward it with discipline and resolve, and I will have to fight for every step.  No matter how strong or calloused I become there is one thing that will not change, 26.2 miles will always be stronger than I am.  But with all due respect, 26.2, miles, I'm coming after you!  One step at a time!