Marathon to Athens

In 490 BC, Phidippides ran from the battle fields of Marathon to Athens to tell the Greeks that they have defeated the Persians. In 2007, I ran from the battle fields of Marathon to the Olympic Stadium in Athens to tell myself I could do it. The experience was unreal.
From the starting line, excitement filled the air as the athletes saluted the Greek National Anthem and took their starting positions. By the 10km mark I was running swiftly and feeling confident that my months of training was paying off. This sense of confidence turned to joy as I crossed the 21.1km mark, the half way point and the furthest I have ever run. I carried on until the 25th kilometer when, faced with a giant hill, I ran out of steam. Joints hurt, muscles ached and stomach cramped. This joy I had just recently experienced quickly turned into a grave feeling of complete and utter helplessness and despair. I tried occupying my mind with other thoughts which included family, friends, and even my stuffed animals. Somehow, I pushed forward, at first one kilometer at a time, then one step at a time.
Then, all of a sudden, a ray of light shined through the parting clouds as I stepped past the 40km mark lifting me from despair - the Greek Gods were smiling upon me. With only 2km to go, my fellow runners cheered me on and the locals handed me olive branches shouting 'Bravo Bravo'. I turned into the old Olympic Stadium and headed down the final straightaway floating towards glory. I crossed the finish line into the welcoming arms of a Greek woman who congratulated me and placed a medal around my neck. In that moment, wide-smiled and teary-eyed, I felt immortal.