Running To Myself: Part 3

The rest of that day was grueling...watching every competitor run in and out, watching every time show up on the clock, watching my fate being created. I was ready to find out where I stood. My faith had almost been lost the entire day, with my heart sinking and rising continually, but I had to remind myself that no matter how I finish, I am a champion. It was 11 pm by the time the running was finished, and the results were posted. I got out of the truck and walked up slowly, waiting for the crowd to subside. A mass of broken and ecstatic hearts surrounded me. One who lived in victory in being named one of the best, while many others walked away, hearts heavy. Finally, the crowd divided, and I remembered one last time, that no matter if my name was on that paper or not, I was a champion. I ran my hand down the list, name after name representing those who's hearts were heavy with defeat, crossed over my fingertips. I got to my name, and traced my finger left, and found a mark that brought me to tears instantly. I had done it. I had placed in the world championship finals. I came in fourth in my division, which meant I was walking away with a world title of a top five qualifier. I was mortified at the idea that all of these struggles had brought me to an ultimate high. I remembered that barrel that I touched, the scars of it, and how it related to me. I remembered the hospital, and the determination. I remembered my aunt's smile, and how she was beaming from heaven. I had the world on my shoulders and couldn't be any higher in elation with everyone that was there. I had done it. I ran to that world title...past my fears...past my struggles....to myself.