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Out of the corner of your eye you spot her. Flawless, wind gently blowing her hair in favorable directions, making not only her, but her run, appear - effortless.
Reality strikes me and I shrink inward. Why do I look like an asthmatic weirdo heaving heavily through each mile, struggling to give a passing runner the "nod", instead making odd grunting and spasmatic head jerks all the more disturbing. I have a wedgie. My shoe is untied. The wind, coming at me in 30 mph gusts is as unforgiving as the waist band of my shorts, digging into my fleshy stomach - simultaneously reminding me of the mindless munching that lead to two desserts, and an extra glass of wine (or two).
I am Marcia. However imperfect my strides and foot falls may be. My success is only dictated by the effort I put forth, the time I invest, and miles logged by my two feet. Each time I lace up I feel an incredible sense of pride - to be among a community of people who embrace even the strangers they pass as a member, no matter how fast their pace, and immense gratitude for being someone who can put one foot in front of the other. Toward their dreams. Through stress. Celebrating every victory - big or small, cherishing every bead of sweat, tear shed, and aching muscle.
I am a RUNNER.
What aspect of running are YOU grateful for?
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