Today is Tuesday, November 2nd, 2004; Karen's Korner #407

Another Chicken Soup email:

The Last Runner

      The annual marathon in my town usually occurs during a heat
wave. My job was to follow behind the runners in an ambulance
in case any of them needed medical attention. The driver and I
were in an air-conditioned ambulance behind approximately one
hundred athletes waiting to hear the sharp crack of the starting
gun.
      "We're supposed to stay behind the last runner, so take it
slowly," I said to the driver, Doug, as we began to creep
forward.
      "Let's just hope the last runner is fast!" he laughed.
      As they began to pace themselves, the front runners started
to disappear. It was then that my eyes were drawn to the woman
in blue silk running shorts and a baggy white T-shirt.
      "Doug, look!"
      We knew we were already watching our "last runner."  Her
feet were turned in, yet her left knee was turned out.  Her legs
were so crippled and bent that it seemed impossible for her to
be able to walk, let alone run a marathon.
      Doug and I watched in silence as she slowly moved forward. 
We didn't say a thing.  We would move forward a little bit, then
stop and wait for her to gain some distance.  Then we'd slowly
move forward a little bit more.
      As I watched her struggle to put one foot in front of the
other, I found myself breathing for her and urging her forward. 
I wanted her to stop, and at the same time, I prayed that she
wouldn't.
      Finally, she was the only runner left in sight.  Tears
streamed down my face as I sat on the edge of my seat and
watched with awe, amazement and even reverence as she pushed
forward with sheer determination through the last miles.
      When the finish line came into sight, trash lay everywhere
and the cheering crowds had long gone home.  Yet, standing
straight and ever so proud waited a lone man. He was holding
one end of a ribbon of crepe paper tied to a post.  She slowly
crossed through, leaving both ends of the paper fluttering
behind her.
      I do not know this woman's name, but that day she became a
part of my life - a part I often depend on.  For her, it wasn't
about beating the other runners or winning a trophy, it was
about finishing what she had set out to do, no matter what. 
When I think things are too difficult or too time-consuming, I
get those "I-just-can't-do-its," I think of the last runner. 
Then I realize how easy the task before me really is.


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