Today's Helping of Chicken Soup for the Soul

[Guest guest]

The Home Stretch

By Hayse

Four miles! I've only run four miles! I stood at the side of the road, dejected,

waiting for a relief wagon to pick me up. I hadn't even run a third of Kansas

City's Hospital Hill Half-Marathon. Six months of training down the drain - all

because of a microscopic virus.

Sprained muscles, bad weather . . . I thought I planned for it all. But strep

throat?

Add medicine that had side effects like rapid heartbeat and shortness of breath;

I didn't have a prayer of finishing.

Regardless, my parents met me at the finish line with an armful of pink roses.

The offering was bittersweet, since I clutched them after climbing out of a van

instead of after sprinting across a finish line.

I vowed I'd try again. Unfortunately, Kansas City half-marathons are in short

supply, and life got busy again.

For one, I suddenly became a mom of an eight-year-old.

Cute little Mandy Porter had packed all her things, waved good-bye to her foster

parents and moved into our spare bedroom. This pixie-like redhead had been

passed around like most foster children. Unfortunately, her story was more

disheartening than the average one. Twice, she had been placed for adoption and

began calling an unfamiliar couple " Mom " and " Dad. " Twice, the stress had been

too much for these new parents, and they sent little Mandy back to foster care.

Social workers call this an " adoption disruption. " I call it a soul disruption.

My husband and I would become two more in a line of uncertain parents for Mandy.

The very day she moved in, we could see why the disruptions had happened. Little

Miss Mandy was a tough cookie - throwing tantrums daily, refusing to comply,

being passive, being aggressive, being anything but cooperative.

Seven years had passed since my undoing at Hospital Hill at mile four, but even

after all those years, I still felt empty and undone at not having finished the

1994 race. Advertisements for the 2001 half-marathon popped up again on store

windows. I mulled over whether or not to try again. I had been having hip pain

so badly that I was having trouble sleeping and hadn't run in years.

I oscillated between sending in an application and being realistic. I had little

time to prepare. And I had a daughter, now a teenager, who still took immense

amounts of time and energy. I don't quit. I do what I say. I could hear my own

words echo back to me. I thought, This is a perfect opportunity to show this to

Mandy - to let her see that I mean it, instead of just hearing it.

I mailed my application and bought new shoes. I found running routes with big

hills like the official Hospital Hill course, and I ran them whenever I could

squeeze it in.

Too soon, that Sunday morning arrived. Mandy and I swung into a downtown parking

spot and headed to the starting line. I told her, " I hope to finish in two and a

half hours. Meet me at the finish line at 10:30. "

She nodded.

I lifted her chin and looked into her eyes. " Mandy, " I said, " I don't quit. Not

in this race, and not on you. I am running this race for you. "

With my number pinned securely, I found my place in the mob of runners and lost

sight of my precious daughter.

Could I do it? I had to!

I am strong, and I don't quit! I am strong, and I don't quit! It was my mantra,

the words that patterned my cadence.

Oh no! Is that a raindrop? The gray sky opened up, and sheets of rain began to

pelt us. My shoes became soggy and doubled in weight. The wet socks rubbed my

feet, forming instant blisters.

I don't quit! I yelled the words in my mind now, picturing my daughter waiting

at the finish line. My hip began to sear with pain, and the raindrops turned to

torrents.

I repeated the words, louder and faster at the never-ending hills. Through the

pain, I felt exhilarated. I would do it. I was doing it!

Sooner than I realized, I rounded a corner to discover the official clock

ticking off the finish times. It read " 2:13. " On the one hand, I was thrilled;

regardless of all the obstacles, I had finished fifteen minutes sooner than I

expected! On the other hand, I kept picturing Mandy inside where it was dry,

watching the clock for the time I told her to come out to meet me.

I sprinted the last few yards, planning my strategy to find Mandy in the thick

pack of people inside the Crown Center.

But I didn't have to. There she was - her rain-drenched hair dripping onto her

soaked T-shirt. And even through all the raindrops - and now the tears - I could

see her beaming smile and her arms open fully to receive me.

" I made it, Mandy! I don't quit! "

" I knew you would, Mom, " she said, holding me tightly as we stood in a deepening

puddle. " I'm so glad you never quit. "