One year ago today is in the past. One year ago I ran a half marathon at Surf City in 2:05. I vividly remember the course, counting the miles down as I ran my heart out in my bright yellow singlet. I weighed more but felt stronger. My legs carried me without protest, they were trained to complete that race. Hours of time running in circles and praying toward the horizon had prepared me for each mile. People passed me, but I owned it, they flew by and were gone to run their own race. The pain, the happiness, the freedom of flying along by my own will. The views of that expansive blue we call an ocean. Sea air filling my lungs and a crisp breeze propelling me forward, then slipping out as I gasped for the next breath. The creeping pain building under my rib cage as I burned through more and more of my stamina. I knew I was running on empty, but soon the finish line loomed ahead, and I surged forward.
Running what I could never know would be my last race.
One year ago today is in the past, and all I can do is look forward. Surge ahead in a new race. Forge a new future without succumbing to the immense sense of loss I feel for that course. For every course.