To the wall!  To the wall!  Let me take you there!

I’d given so much thought to yesterday’s column that it never made it to print.  Had been working on summary of the State Track Meet.  Crowning Milo The Conqueror.  My story of the weekend.  Two things jumped.  A huge personal best and a wall at 600 meters.

Made me reflect on my own racing career, relative as it may be.  Those epiphanous efforts where a death grip held the towel, refusing to let it drop let alone throw it in.  Those rascals I raced week in and week out, month in and year out, on the Texas Gulf Coast.  Forgive the geographical  disconnect but its the effort and the mind and the will that stars in this  tale.

Only 6th best.  That was my fate.  You knew the field, they were friends (mostly) as well as competitors.  The line, the gun, the chase.  I never gave up the chase.  Not once.  Here’s why:  They had talent, I had heart, a big one.  I’d run and run and run, watching their backs.  Awards ceremonies always included the Top 5 in each age group.   6th.  In retrospect accomplishments that now seem a little more favorable considering the size of Houston.

The most memorable races however were those where I absolutely refused to acknowledge defeat.  Unimportant whether or not I won  the race.  Knowing that I gave absolutely everything, had no quit in me, seeing stars at the finish line.  And in my log books there are happy stories where this was enough to carry me past better runners.

What am I saying today?  When you meet your wall, RUN THROUGH NOT TO.