“Go, Katie, Go!” three young guys cheered. I paused, “me?” I mouthed. How did they know my name? Do I know them? I wondered. Then I looked down. I was so nervous about running my first marathon this morning that I didn’t even realize my mother had written 13388 KATIE on this sheet of paper pinned to my front.     

            When everything seems to be going wrong in my life, I set seemingly impossible goals for myself. I do this so that once I complete these goals I can say to myself: I am awesome. I signed up to run the Chicago Marathon while I was going through a tough time in my life. I felt alone. I felt as if the world was working against me.

As I cross the starting line, I get my first glimpse of the two million spectators cheering me on. There is a sea of strangers shouting and cheering us on with signs, cowbells and flags. My eyes begin to leak behind my sunglasses. I am crying out of relief and joy. It had taken so much training and dedication to get to this day, and now it felt like the world was working with me and not against me.

             Strangers pushed me on at every mile yelling and pushing me to keep running. Little kids and adults alike hold out their hands for a high five as I run by. I felt like superwoman. Then at 25.2 miles, a mile before the finish, crisis occurred.

            My iPod died. I yanked my ear buds out of my ears and cursed. What a piece of crap I thought. Although I was furious, this was a blessing. Without my IPod I could hear individual voices, I was not alone. “Go Katie go, you’re almost there, there’s beer at the finish line,” one man yelled. I groaned and kept running, a beer right now would be nice I thought.

            The road inclines slightly. My burning thighs begin to twitch. The sidewalk packed with people now resembles a mosh pit. My peripheral vision moves in slow motion. I zero in on a small, shaky, exhausted old lady ahead. Oh hell no, I’m going to beat her I thought. This competitiveness and drive not only gets me up this hill, but it helps me get over other life challenges.

            As I turn the corner I see the word “FINISH” printed on a huge banner and thousands of people cheering. My mind goes blank, a cool electric current floods throughout my body, this is a runners high—runners compare this to an orgasm. I’m steps from the finish line. I am painfully aware of every single muscle in my body. I find the last bit of energy I have left and sprint to the finish.

            I did it, I finished; it took me five hours and thirty three minutes, but I finished. I reached my goal. I ran the Chicago Marathon. I am awesome.