Who Ran with Me that Day?

Who walks with me in those crucial minutes?

Who walks alongside my heartfelt attempts?


Who takes charge when it gets precipitous?

Who ran with me that day?

That day when the pulse had slowed down, 
breathing came in heavy; 
when the mind teased to abandon my spirit, 
the body felt heavier than a chestful of weights?

Who did I see appear by my side like a wisp of breath?
Appear as a soft sudden whiff of presence right beside me,
tingling the soft hair of my neck and arm on my left?

Who were You?

Who was it who deftly clasped my palm and whispered
'I am with you, I will run with you; 
right till the end.'

'I will see you through it however slow, however clumsy it is;
right till the end.'

Was it You?
Is it possible to have felt your presence so raw, so bodily?

Because I did feel you in every folding of my leg, each leaning of my body.

You were there, right beside me; 
right till the end.

Because soon enough my spirit soared
trusting the benevolence of the offer.

I sensed a bold addiction glide in, 
gently stroking the weariness of crossing the last mile.

'You will walk with me all the way right till the end?'
—a doubting voice reared itself.

The answer came in the stronger clasp of your grip.
You were not going to give up.
You were in it with me
right till the end.

This was the closest I ever felt to you.

I knew it that moment.
I believed you.

I knew that today was unlike those days 
with shorter goals,
That You were not about to trick me to add an extra mile.
I knew that today You will run with me,
right till the end. 

And the magic arrived.
Slow, soft, meditative, rhythmic in its own way.
The heaviness still there, but befriended!


All a part of the heady mix to take me to the Finish,
my victory lap.

I ran along, holding your hand in this newfound comfort. 
Not fast, only onward, very deliberate.
My feet soft and mindful as it hit the ground.

Albeit heavy steps, 
heart-rate at a deafening even keel;
hope softening the hurdle of the mile ahead,
mind and body getting closer in concert, 
mouth dry as also wet with the emerging vision of the Finish.


Not fast, only onward, very deliberate.

Lighter, headier, body comfortably numb
in every new step in the last stretch.

And we reached the Finish.

No euphoria, no celebration, no triumphant cry at the Finish.
I was alone. We were together.

And the deep knowing.

An acknowledgement that it was Me all the time,
that I totally betted on finishing the run of the day
right till the end;


And a lifelong knowing
that it can be done,
that I will show up at the bigger races of life.


Because my spirit will drum up this memory—
this indelible rush in the veins will spur another last mile.

That every time I give up, I will decide not to.
That I'll always feel safe in the enduring knowing
—'It can be done!' 

{This is a long overdue excerpt of my experience of my first 21k run. I reckon, much like any cherished, challenging last mile}

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p.s.: I live with a compulsion to document many of life's defining, layered or novel experiences—mainly to be able to minutely document every itchy bit of an experience before it gets lost in the lapse of time. This one in particular felt like it was coming for some time and also got rejected at the screening level of 'has been talked about too often before'. The urge for expression lay in the restless reject-basket until I was able to refocus on the single biggest reason I write- to translate the itch into words and balm my restlessness. 

Of course, others finding resonance is a heady by-product! So please post, comment, discuss, share your own experience of the last mile of your life-event. 

Thanks for reading.