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Marathoner
by Chana Weiner
I wake up at 2:30 am. I should be going to sleep now, but I'm not.
I slip on my tank top. It is bright with ambition.
The sky is dark. The sun has not yet risen.
I adjust my number and my waist pouch.
The starting fireworks reflect off my running shoes.
The booming mirrors the beating of my heart.
I am nervous and passionate. It is crowded with energized individuals.
Everyone around me is determined. Everyone is eager.
My coach gives me a reassuring look, my mom smiles atme.
Then I start to walk. Starting off slow.
I like the rhythm of my beat. My feet play a soft tune.
I take careful strides.
The first 5 miles are fine. 21.2 left! Adrenaline pumps through my blood.
The sun is rising over Waikiki Beach. It's my personal spotlight.
The water is beautiful. Bringing the morning on to the tide.
My mind drifts away like an abandoned raft on the waves.
I go faster. Energy pumps through my veins.
It is mile 7. I look around at all my fellow marathoners.
We are working hard together. We are united by our common goal.
I hear the steady tread of runners and I feel the fortitude in the air.
Then I feel tired. I see the mile marker #15. I will keep going.
Dedicated strangers pull me along with them.
Sweat pours down my body like a stream of water. I will persevere.
It is mile 22; I am having feelings of surrender. My body is aching.
The voices tell me to stop. They say to give up because it can't be done.
I want to believe them. I am running empty on my fuel.
My coach comes to save me. He walks by my side.
I hear the words of those at home cheering me on.
I hear encouraging people all around me.
They hold my hand with hope.
They say it can be done. They say it will be done.
There's no option of giving up.
It is now that I call upon my spiritual strength and
inner power to the take the reigns.
It is now that I can only turn to G-d for it.
I am running on my essential force.
I will carry on.
I may slow down but I will not stop.
I push myself because I must carry on.
Up ahead I see the finish line. 26.2 miles.
I know I will make it there.
I feel a special vigor to cross the finish line.
I'm running for those people who can't.
The word "Finish" seems so accomplishing.
I cross the line. I hear the cheering.
I feel the overwhelming happiness of achievement.
My parents are glowing. My coach is beaming.
I thank G-d and the people who got me there.
I raise my arms up in victory because I have Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis.
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About the Author
Chana is 17 years old and has Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis, Scoliosis, Osteopenia and Rynauds Syndrome. Chana loves to dance, roller-blade and laugh!
This poem was written after doing a 26.2 mile marathon in Honolulu for the Arthritis Foundation, December 2001. That marathon took over 9 hours to complete! Chana plans to further her studies after high school in the medical field.
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