Run Slow, Run Fast, Run for Life, Run to Live, Run to Save – these words resound loud and clear, almost too clear to ignore. I’m not willing to waste any moment; my desire is to simply run.
My coach persisted in shouting – “Run like a thief, Run to save your life.” I followed suit, as I always do, sometimes exceeding limits. With minimal training, I ended up injuring myself. Today, after five years, I find myself right where I stood five years ago.
For the past five years, I’ve questioned myself – Why am I not running? What’s holding me back? I aspire to run, to be part of the champion’s circle, to taste the sweetness of victory. I HAVE to. I SHALL run, yet I remain locked, rooted, devoid of energy, motionless.
I have an eye to see the track, I have ears to hear the shouts, I have a hand to swing to take speed, I have legs of cheetah to run BUT WHY AM I NOT RUNNING?
Anxiety courses through, and amidst this turmoil, I perceive everything except what lies at my feet. What is it that occupies my vision? Why am I incapable of movement? Why does my energy, desire, and resolve fail me?
I’m still where I stood before the shouts began, alone. I can’t see anyone; I was once united with them, standing together, ready to race. I heard the countdown, the gunshot that initiated the race. I saw them dash ahead, taking the lead, disappearing into the distance, cheered on by the crowd. But now, I’m alone, surrounded by gazes, whispers, this hidden finger-pointing. Why? What have I done? I desire to run, but these shackles around my legs keep me still.
What are these restraints? They seem to rob me of my efforts, my preparations, my fearless resolve. But today, I feel a chill, my vision blurs, the air thins, dust clouds my sight, my lungs gasp, and I lack the strength to move.
I’ve lost my momentum; everyone else has crossed the finish line or is about to. I stand where I never wanted to be.
I strive, I struggle, I inflict pain upon myself, dying to break free. Will I? This thought echoes as my energy wanes, my patience diminishes, and I’m left barely standing.
I had dreamt of victory, but now I’m on the ground, dirt and dust cover my face and fill my mouth. I lie still, unchanged, silently questioning myself… Am I a runner without legs? Did I wished more than I sowed?
I carry a crown of shame and frustration as I remain entangled in circumstances not meant for me. I envisioned grand achievements with my weak legs, pictured myself on the podium with the trophy, unaware that I hadn’t done what was necessary.
I’ve earned this – now I must embrace the taste of dirt in my mouth, mingled with the sweat of my setbacks.
I lie here, awaiting the vulture’s arrival to end my suffering, yet the questions persist in my mind:
- Do I truly know my desires or have I merely strived?
- Why didn’t the voices in my ear penetrate my mind?
- Why did the encouragement lack intensity?
- Why did I prioritize others over myself?
- Why wait for someone else’s applause when I possess two capable hands?
- Why focus on victory instead of the joy of participation?
- Why? Why? Why?
Do I retain the time and strength to fend off the vulture overhead? Can I still achieve it?
I BELIEVE I CAN! I MUST! I WILL!
I might not know the way, but I’m determined to shatter these figurative vultures encircling me. I’ll channel the remnants of energy within me to my hands and legs, to stand, to offer myself another opportunity.
Will I win? I can’t be certain, but I will participate – YES, I WILL!
I may be a runner without legs, yet my heart beats strong. I might not grace the victor’s stage, but I aim to leave saying, “I played, I participated, I gave it my all!”
Signing off – see you at the finish line!
The World I See! 