For Her

Heart pounding. Sweat falling. Legs burning. All of this happens in harmony, creating a sort of pleasurable hell. The high is unlike any other, but it only lasts for so long. With the crowd cheering, it lasts even longer. Everything around me seems to move in slow motion though I know it goes by fast to those watching. I look up into the bleachers and my heart breaks at the empty seat beside my dad.

The one person I wanted most to see me run isn't here. That thought makes me stumble and lose some speed. Panic shoots into my body, propelling me forward. She may not be able to be here, but it's all the more reason to win. For her.

Pain though blocks me from doing what I want- what I need to do. Every muscle groans with the strain I place on them and a headache starts to form at the intensity of the race. More runners slip ahead and I force a sob back. My gaze drifts back up to the bleachers where my dad cheers me on. Etched in his face though is a sadness that I can't fix. Nobody but my mother can do that and she's gone.

Cancer took her away before she could see my last race. We all knew she wouldn't live long enough to be here for me, but it still hurts. I had hope that she would be here to cheer me on just as she had done since I was a little girl. I miss seeing her in the bleachers chewing on her bottom lip, more nervous than me. I miss hearing her cheers, roaring out over all the others. She made sure to be heard because to her, me knowing that she was cheering wasn't as good as me hearing it.

My footsteps falter and my heart weighs heavily with the ache to give up. Tears threaten to fall and not just from pain, but from a deep sadness. A horrible loss. Just as I'm about to stop, my mother's voice floats through my head.

Keep going baby. Don't ever give up.

I told her I would win for her and if I give up on this race, I give up on her. So I take one more look at my dad and for a second, it's like she's there, sitting beside him and cheering me on. With a surge of hope, I speed up, bypassing several runners.

They watch me in amazement as I run past them in a blur. Despite the pain, I keep going, putting one foot ahead of the other. With one last cry, I push past the last runner. When I cross the line, it doesn't register that I win because that's not why I did it. I did it for her.