My Day in Tahoe

The sky was as blue as the lake. The only colors that divided their beauty came from the deep greens of the aging pines and the grey of the granite that dominated their rightful place at the peak of greatness. A large white banner with bright red letters spelled out 'Starting Line" and draped across a narrow section of paved road known as 'Inspiration Point."
At 6800 hundred feet, this is mile #20 for some, #7 for others, but for me (and about a hundred more) this was mile #1. I am running the 10k, the last 6.2 miles of a marathon. I am not wearing a stopwatch. My sights are not set on winning. My goal is to run and not walk.
The first mile was exhilarating! Everything...every pain I've ever endured was worth this mile. I floated down the steep winedy curves with ease and grace. I dodged and ducked around slower runners and walkers. I kept my head up and felt like I could kiss the sky. I praised God silently in my thoughts and gave sincere thanks with every fiber of my undeserving soul.
The second mile came and went with little regard. I slowed up and found my pace by mile #3. The quick descent was starting to take it's toll on me around mile #4.
I was coming down from the mountain where the magestic lake had vanished from my view and was replaced by a forest of tall white aspen trees that seemed to be throwing confetti in the shape of bright yellow fall leaves.
I shared this narrow path with many people. As each one ran past me, I wondered who they were...where they came from...what their story was. However, it was the few that remained within my own physical abilities, that I wondered about the most. Why are they out here? Who is waiting for them at the finish line? What does this mean to them?
Mile #5 brought me to a sign that read 'Pope'. I knew the race ends at Pope Beach. I saw a group of ladies handing out cups of water, but I refused...remembering how difficult it was when I accepted back on mile #3. I can't drink a cup of water that fast. It sloshed back and forth until it was pretty much gone after only a couple steps. I'll have to work on that.
Finally the lake had come back into sight. I smiled. Each leg felt like it weighed 100 pounds, but I didn't want to stop. Not an option...I repeated over and over in my mind. I'm going to finish this. However, the last mile proved to be quite grueling. The route took me away once again from the lake and I was beginning to lose faith in myself. Will I have enough strength to sprint the end? I HAVE to sprint to the finish line! I want to earn that dang metal!
Swarms of people were growing thicker on the sidelines. Families were crowding yellow tape lines with their digital cameras and video recorders, waiting for their heros. Buried deep inside my aching body, I found the hero inside me. I made the last turn and spotted that glorious white 'FINISH LINE' banner. My feet began to accelerate as the screams and shouts of cheer rang out all around me. I did it! I ran it!

Immediately my race number was pulled from my shirt and a metal was placed around my neck. I was ready to fall over. A lady asked me if I was alright. She gave me some water and I thanked her. I thanked God too.

My unofficial time was 1 hour and 7 minutes. Not to shabby.