by Michael Colon
A brisk sunny morning in New York City during the end of a grueling winter signaled my
first ever race that I would partake in. This 5K would set the stage for other races I
would run in. I remember waking up Sunday morning of race day and wanting to get to
Central Park as soon as possible. The excitement of earning my first finishers medal
gave me enough energy that no cup of Joe could. The finisher’s medal symbolizes
something deeper I wanted to prove to myself. Before leaving my apartment, I ate a
light breakfast of eggs and fruit. When my wife pinned my race bib to my sweater, I saw
those numbers like a stamp of approval to push past the limit.
I sat proudly on the train with my wife, wearing my number like a superhero logo on my
chest. At every stop the train passed, I imagined myself running with the train, leaping
through scenes of different neighborhoods to obtain my prize. When we got off the train,
I wanted to sprint down the Manhattan avenues to Central Park when I saw more
runners wearing their numbers up ahead.
Central Park, the natural organic heart of New York City, would be turned into a serene green arena for others to express themselves in running form. Before making my way to the starting line, I kissed my wife and stood amongst the other participants. I looked around at all walks of life huddled together,
getting ready to meet their own goals with thanksgiving in my heart to share this
memory with them.
After the national anthem, the countdown began, and my heart was racing before my
feet made strides forward. The countdown ended, and the gun went off, causing the
army of runners to move toward the finish line one muscle contraction at a time. I tried
my best to stay with the pack of hundreds of people, but I couldn’t help but gallop and
take long strides from the back of the pack. I needed to release the pent-up excitement
of getting myself to participate in this shared event with other people who wanted to
push themselves for the better. For most of my life, I held myself back from competing
seriously, such as events like this. I held myself back from a lot of other things in life.
Now, with a free mind to fly, I needed to slow down so I would not burn myself out in
mile one.
During my run, I took in the beauty of Central Park, with the skyline of trees and
skyscrapers in the background and the morning sun reflecting off the buildings. The
twists and turns mimicked the unexpected hardships of my life. The uphill runs in mile
two replicated the uphill battles I faced within myself. The cold temperatures and my
hurting muscles reflected the heartache of feeling alone during my struggles. The frigid
temps soon went away when communicating with other runners using the sounds of footsteps pounding on the ground as a universal language of love and drive. The pain
went away and became beautiful, like the park. I am starting my journey of personal
healing toward a finish line in my mind, and that is gorgeous.
I knew I would not finish in first, second, or third place, but my goal was to humbly
accept the success of not giving up on myself like I always used to do. Mile two seemed
like it would never end and when I reached mile three, I fell into a flow state, let go of
everything I struggled with and became like birds flying above me in the same direction.
At the end of the race, the finish line greeted me with people cheering, but most
importantly, my wife was there. Seeing my wife waiting for me with a proud smile made
ending this joyful experience of pushing my body and mind more worth it. I turned to her
iPhone and waved, signaling the closing chapter of many more mental and physical
races I would embark on, each with its journey of harmonic emotions as a tune to self-
discovery.
One of the event workers handed me my finishers medal, and when I put it on, I realized
the carrot dangling in front of me was a new me that had grown just a little more in
disguise as a colorful medal. I felt so proud of myself for not quitting and believing in
myself. Sure, I did not finish in first place, but I finished first in my own rights. Looking at
my medal, I see it was much more than a snowflake emblem with the current year and
5K engraved on it. This trophy on my body reflected where my heart was when stepping
out of my comfort zone. I would always avoid competing with others out of either shame
or fear.
That 5K reminded me that we are all on our paths of growth no matter where we
are from. Before leaving Central Park, I looked back at it one more time, looking forward
to my next experience here. I wore my medal and bib on the train back home. When I
got home, I hung up my medal and thought about what other journeys could be out
there and how far I could push myself.
My name is Michael Colon born and raised in New York City. I reside in New York and am excited to begin my writing journey. I love creative writing, and my mission is to use my craft to impact the lives of others. My writing style can best be described as introspective, reflective, and symbolic. I am getting ready to publish a few self-published books and I enjoy hiking, working out, sports, art, movies, and music. Life is like a museum to appreciate its muses. Michael Colon Follow Michael on: Instagram
