Gasping for another breath, I push forward. How much I had left, I would never know. But it didn’t matter. With my feet throbbing and lungs ready to implode, all that I could think… brrrreathe. How could I suddenly forget how to do something I have known since birth?
With each step, the struggle became harder. As the finish approached, it was time to get my pr. Calling it fatigue would have been an understatement. More like exhaustion on acid. As my feet crossed the finish line, the endorphins began to pour through my system. I had beaten my greatest competition…myself.
Why would you run for fun? Ask any runner why they do what they do, and they will all reply with the same common theme: the runner’s high. No feeling or emotion could ever come close.
Running has always been there for me. A friend when I had problems at home or with the ladies. A parent when I needed to unwind after a bad test. Or a guide whenever I needed to plan for my future.

I may not be perfect, but running doesn’t care. It’s a struggle that gets easier as the days go by. In life, there are always going to be obstacles. The more I keep fighting, the easier things are to overcome. Quitting is never an option; my race has yet to be won.