Kick it In

I’ve been thinking a lot about this girl here today (photo at the end). She wanted so badly to be good. And it felt like a constant, desperate hustle so much of the time.

I wish I could go back and cheer for her during one of her races. I wish I could sprint around the course, cutting through the park to catch her during each mile, to tell her just the words she needs to hear. The words I can see written in her eyes, begging to be said, and I can do it because I can read the writing. They’re my words too.

I wish I could meet her a quarter mile before the finish and yell: Start your kick now! I know it seems too far, but I promise you can hold it! I wish I could come find her in the finish chute, watch as she congratulates her competitors in front of and behind her, as she peels a name sticker off her uniform to hand to a race official. I wish I could wrap her up in a tight hug and tell her how deeply proud I am of her. That her running is enough. And that she’s enough with or without it.

She was so strong. She was carrying too much, but she also found her own way to set it aside. She knew how to open her stride and trust it to carry her.

I feel her calling now, Open your stride and start your kick now! You can hold it, I promise. And you know what? I trust her. I can’t see the finish, but if she says I can hold a kick until then, then I fully believe that I’ve got it in me.