The Race

This race we call life - it is not a sprint, it is the longest relay race ever.

We watch those before us, we cheer them on, feel their pain when they fall, and sometimes feel the sorrow of elimination when they are disqualified.

Yes, what you do on your "leg" of the race affects the whole team.

Funny, in this race, we are the only runners.

No opposing team.

No stopwatch.

Just us.

No defined distance, just a run - as hard as you can, with all of your heart, all of your soul, all of your might, until you can run no longer.

When the runner before us starts to falter, we match their pace, arm extended behind...waiting on the baton.

When we feel it slap our palm, we explode with a burst of energy that leaves the previous runner far behind...

And we never look back.

We run like they did, with all our heart, all our soul, all our might.

We run through tears, we run through age, we run through sorrow, but we never stop.

We know we are nearing the end of our run when the stands begin to fill; familiar faces of runners past cheer us, encouraging us as we run.

Breath becomes strained, eyes fog with tears, strength is a memory, running is all we know - a labor, no longer a joy, no explosive bursts remain, just a race.

The cheering increases, the crowd is on its feet, the air is full of the roar of happy spectators...

The next runner is poised, no looking back, arm extended behind

Waiting for the baton.

Waiting for you.

Don't fall, don't stumble. Stay in your lane. The team is counting on you to keep them in the race.

When you pass the baton, they explode away from you and the cheering is all you know...

You are complete, you ran the race, and won.

The baton is in my hand and my run has just started...