I ran my race today. You may recall a tiny thread about running a 5K
when I can't? Well, it turned out to be a four mile road race instead
of a 5K. I was pretty scared about it, but showed up in running gear
and figured I'd just do what I could.
I started out slow, then tapered off. :-) But a others pointed out, I
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I remember how dejected I was about coming in Dead Fucking Last (DFL) in this race, how pitiful I was for being beaten by the old and crippled... but I also remember that gentleman coming up to me and telling me how scared he was that he wouldn't be able to bring it, that he'd come in DFL, and how important it was to him NOT to.
Thing is, I didn't really care if I came in last. I showed up and that gave me full points in my own head. But HE cared. In a very real way, I was the answer to his prayers, a slow fat triathlete showing up on her first race. When I remember this race now, I remember that I was the angel set by God to answer this man's prayers.
But to me, it looked like being beaten on the sprint in a rather humiliating fashion.
We don't always know when we're being angels.
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