It should have been easier to say and write about the last hours before the marathon I was about to run. After all, in the past 6 years, part of the pre-race rituals was that mental checklist and conditioning, that, at least for me, spelled the difference between redlining at kilometer 32 or not.
Instead I am beset by thoughts of what happens after this marathon. I have rationalized my commitment to run this race, in many instances that others would tell me not to, at the expense of health risks. But I cannot live on the “what-if=all-went-well” feeling if I don’t push through with the plan. Perhaps in the deep recesses of my mind, if I have to sidelined for some time, I would prefer that my last race was a marathon.
After I finish this race, I have to battle it out with the biggest race ever (called life) and find out what exactly is wrong with me. Believe me, I’ve never been one to complain about discomfort, being one of those with a high threshold for pain. But when your quality of life becomes adversely affected, you know you have to take those bullhorns and do what it takes. I must admit that my inner stubborn self was actually afraid of finding out for the past two years. But when my youngest Aimee turned 20 yesterday, I went on overdrive with thoughts of what happens to my children if its my time to cross the rainbow.
The minute I started to accept the fact that I was aging, came also the stark reality that we all go; some just ahead of the others, but we all go just the same. I am fortunate to have been given the chance to lead an athlete’s life since 2009, and if My Maker permits it, I would love to continue the rest of my journey this way. And just like preparing for a marathon, I need to start training for that next phase of ‘senior madness’ and make my epitaph fulfill itself!