Member-only story
About a small not-forgotten miracle
It was a sweltering day in July,
not even the birds were singing
for fear of overexertion.
But here I was
running a 5k race
in the morning heat of a summer day.
My running clothes were damp with perspiration
even before the race had begun.
Since I had survived a heart attack
two years before at age 62,
I had something to prove to myself…
that I had healed and that I had transformed
into a healthier version of my former self.
I tried holding onto that thought.
The starter’s gunshot rang through
the noise of the crowd
and assembled runners…
there was no turning back now.
I made it through the first 2 miles
of the 3.1 mile course
in not too bad a condition,
although the perspiration
was running off my face
like someone had poured
a bucket of water over my head.
