This spring, still feeling the high from crossing the finish line of Charlotte’s Thunder Road Half Marathon with a blindfold over my eyes, I decided that while there would never be another Thunder Road, I wasn’t done running for my sister.
I’m almost ready. I put myself through an atypical (for me) training regimen for my first race, and I nearly made it. For the past month, I’ve been dealing with a pesky foot injury that may or may not be a stress fracture. The X-ray came back negative, and I’ve gone on a couple of longish runs without pain, so I’m going to give it a go when the race rolls around. I don’t know that I’ll post a speedy time (then again, sometimes I say that only to turn around and set a PR).
But as Mom and a friend reminded me in two separate conversations in the past 24 hours, my speed doesn’t matter. It never has, and it never should. Taylor wouldn’t care if I came in first or last. If we’re talking about a footrace, all that matters is that I give it my best every single day, even if that means I have to crawl.
In fact, if we’re talking strictly about winning and losing, the only personal race that ever really mattered was the race to save my sister’s life. And every day, I live with the knowledge that I’m losing that race.
But there will always be another Taylor.
That’s why I’ll keep chasing the monster that’s beating us.
Stay tuned for details about my first race in the challenge to run in all 50 states for the fight against rare diseases! Click here to make a tax-deductible donation in support of Taylor’s Tale, the non-profit organization founded in my sister’s honor.