Oh. My. Gods. - Weebly

I’m fading.
Crap! I’ve worked too hard the last three weeks—my entire life—
to lose now. All those extra hours and lack of sleep weren’t in vain.
I won’t let it be for nothing.
And I’m not letting four miles worth of thir-ty-sev-ens go to waste.
Digging deeper than I’ve ever dug before, I scrape up the last
shreds of my energy from the furthest reaches of my soul and—just
as I pass the four-and-a-half-mile mark—step up my pace a notch. I
close in two paces.
I feel myself burst through the wall, demolishing it with a mental
sledgehammer. Energy—or adrenaline or endorphins—flows
through me and all my pain fades away.
My leg muscles tighten for a second to let me know they’re back
in action. I feel my feet pound the dirt path. My lungs fill with oxygen
and I’m not racked with crippling pain anymore. It’s like I’m
just starting the race instead of almost finishing.
I’ve pushed through the wall before, but it’s never felt like this.
Like I’m racing fresh. Fully recovered.
We pass the four-and-three-quarter-mile mark.
I close in another pace.
Only one pace separates me from victory.
I can see the finish line—and the small sea of people waiting—in
the distance. It’s a straightaway from here.
The onlookers catch sight of Jackie and send up a cheer.
Spurred on, I close in another pace. We’re neck-and-neck. For
the first time in the entire race, she glances to the side. I grin at the
shocked look on her face—until she speeds up and I have to match
her pace to catch her.
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