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There, a quarter of a mile down the road lays the finish line. The crowd's cheering and whistling quickens my pace. I look over to my roommate who I had been training and now finishing a marathon with, he is playing a kazoo. The finish line is closer still. I know I'm going to make it.
My thoughts drift back to the first day of Austin Fit when I was just a guy, who had a crazy roommate who wanted to run a marathon and who wanted somebody to make sure he would get out of bed on Saturday mornings. I was just a guy who couldn't even finish the placement run the first day of Austin Fit. I was just a guy who threw up on my first training run. I was just a guy. The months went by and I got stronger, both mentally and physically. By the time I ran the 3M half-marathon I knew I was a guy ready to run a marathon. My thoughts now drift to the Friday before the marathon, a mere 36 hours before the big day, and how adversity struck. While lifting a heavy pole, I felt something snap in my back and instantly felt a sharp shooting pain. I took a step back. I was unable to stand up straight, and with any movement the pain crippled me. That evening I visited the doctor, the news wasn't good. There was no way she would be able to get the pain down enough for me to walk a marathon let alone run it. I hobbled out of her office. I had come so far. But I had also heard that I couldn't run before. After my fourth and hopefully last knee surgery, not only the doctor, but my physical therapist, both told me that I couldn't run. And yet not three weeks before my back trouble I had run 21+ miles. There had to be a way.
The next day I went to the expo to get my packet when I saw a chiropractor giving free adjustments. What the hell, I couldn't run anyway. I explained my situation to him and his response was: "I'd get a good night sleep, tomorrow you're running a marathon." He popped my back and told me to meet him at his office after the expo so he could give me a better tune up. When he finished adjusting me, I asked: "How much do I owe you?" He replied with one word: "Finish." My thoughts now take me to the starting line. My back is still sore, but I'm standing upright and moving actually makes my back feel better. We're off. Mile one: no pain. Mile eight: still no pain. Mile ten: no pain but our group is breaking up and I haven't seen my roommate in a while. The half way point: my roommate has rejoined me and I'm convinced that doctors are the stupidest people in the world.
Mile 16: my roommate hasn't said anything in a long time. Mile 20: I find out why my roommate hasn't been talking as we stop so he can wrap his right knee. Mile 21: My roommates left leg seizes up and we have to get another wrap from the medical station to wrap that one. His courage pushes me. He never once complains, he never once says I can't, he simply does what ever it takes to get across the finish line. Toughest son of a gun I know.
Fellow Austin Fitters that we had been worried about because they dropped back long ago catch up with us, they hadn't quit and neither would I. Suddenly I'm back from my reminiscing and I'm extremely close to the finish line. I do my best Dion Sanders impersonation as I cross. No longer is my life cluttered with excuses, no longer do I have to check my list of "I can'ts". No longer am I just a guy, I am invincible.
Tim Hudgeons, Marathoner
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