Remember the 2012 London Summer Olympics? As I sit here at 3:53 a.m. I am reminded of those olympians and their extraordinary athletic feats. Those determined athletes that trained so hard and overcame incredible obstacles so they could compete with athletes all over the world. Did you watch those 2012 London games? The passing of the olympic torch and the lighting of the olympic flame in the arena. What a spectacle to behold. I am also reminded of the beauty of the runners both long and short distance. The sprinters, running with explosive intensity, displayed an exciting few moments when every fiber of their bodies are pushed to their limit. It's an impressive few moments when the pain and extreme effort is evident in the bulging of muscles and the intense facial expressions. The sprinters were quite a contrast from the long distance runners. The marathon runners quickly settled into a paced rhythm, a focused concentration written on their faces. Those marathoners appeared to be somewhat relaxed in comparison to the sprinters, after all, they were in it for the long haul. Taking in fluids as they ran, they just kept moving forward. The long distance runners didn't even seem to notice the other runners or the spectators cheering them on. Their focus was so complete, their journey a personal challenge without dramatic fanfare, they just kept moving forward never changing cadence or their resolve. That reminds me of another marathon . . .
You know, this race we run isn't a sprint. Our race isn't even a race. There's no celebration as we cross the finish line, because our race has no finish line . . . atleast not yet. We run this marathon in search of the finish line with an unparalleled determination, fortitude, and grace. We run with the relaxed, paced rhythm of a marathoner that is in the marathon of his/her life. When we lose our pace, we stumble and fall, but we always get up again and get back in the "race". With the determination and resolve of an olympian, we run together, but not in competition . . . we run together with comraderie and when we do fall, we stop, help each other back up and then we just keep running. If you look closely you can see that resolve on our faces. It is the resolve and determination that only a person with fibromyalgia can understand.
Do you remember when your olympic flame was lit? Many of us do. There was no opening ceremony for our olympic games, but we carry our own personal torch. This torch is our spirit that burns so brightly as we run this marathon, and with help and support our torch will continue to burn brightly for many years to come. There was no celebration when our torch was lit and yet each day we celebrate life. It's a personal celebration of hope as we search for our finish line that we will all cross together some day. What a celebration we will have on that day!
Blessings to you as you run your marathon with me and all our fibromyalgia friends. I hope to meet all of you at the finish line. Sending you love and hope for the future! . . . Goodnight.