The last run.

This weekend is it.

If I take a DNS, I will have quit. If I have a DNF, I will have failed. If I cross the finish line, the journey is over.

If I'm honest, I think the last one scares me the most.

There are many different reasons to run a marathon. For some, it is one more thing to cross off the bucket-list and, if you know me, I do love checking things off of a list. For others, it is a way to stay healthy, and I definitely needed to jump-start a healthy lifestyle after spending 10 months in a rather sedentary position. Still, others run for the sanity, and it's no secret that I wanted to boost my endorphins the most natural way possible to help point me down a grateful and joy-filled path. However, these reasons were all secondary to why I needed to run this race.

I needed it for reassurance. I needed to prove to myself that there is nothing more that I could have done to help Will. That I did my best. That I went the 'distance.' I asked God to help me understand what Will went through. To reassure me that he didn't suffer unnecessarily and that if he did suffer, it was His choice, not mine. I asked God to help me feel what Will felt. I knew that signing up for this marathon would bring pain. It would bring exhaustion. It would bring fear. All the things that I think Will may have endured for us. I needed the reassurance to know that it was worth it for him.

Sunday looks to already be setting itself up for this challenge. I have been running in 50-degree early morning temps, as last year the start of the race it was 40 degrees. This year the start will be almost 30 degrees warmer - not ideal for someone whose body isn't acclimated. Regulating body temperatures was a challenge for Will, and I wonder if I will get a glimpse of that challenge this weekend.

After purchasing my "marathon" shoes, I did a few short runs to break them in and developed an annoying knee pain. Thinking it was just new shoes I decided to knock out my 20 mile run in them. The knee pain got worse and has yet to subside. With another change of shoes and little time to break them in, I know Sunday will welcome its share of pain. Though we did our best to keep Will comfortable, I can never quite know just how much pain he felt. No doubt, pain will be a friend of mine this weekend.

I woke up this morning with a tight chest and a deep cough that has me wondering what kind of cold is settling into my body. Of course, I've stayed healthy for the past year and now race weekend I am getting a cold. With breathing one of Will's key issues I wonder if God will show me just how hard it was for Will to find his breath.

To add to it, the emails have started coming in testing the "alert" system for emergencies on race day. The first few emails were about the temperatures and elevating the course from 'green' to 'yellow' due to temps. However, my sister knew better, as yesterday we got an email discussing security in light of the recent Las Vegas shootings. I will run and try not be afraid as I know that is how Will took on life.

Everything seems to be setting itself up to help me understand the pain, the struggle, the fear that Will may have endured for us. So when people ask what time I am hoping to finish in and I tell them I just need to cross the finish line in 6:30:00, they think I'm joking. I know prolonging the run may create more pain, more struggle, more suffering. However, much like Will, I also want to prolong the journey. This marathon will only happen once. I intend to make the most out of it that I can. Each half mile equates to about one day of Will's life. Some days were fantastic. Others were really hard. I hope to embrace each mile as it comes and find joy in every step of the journey. Finishing is the reassurance that I need to put my heart at rest and know that I have gone the distance. I did not quit. I have not failed.

I'm not running for a time because I am not running it for me. I am running to better understand Him. Crossing the finish line will be another milestone. And anyone who celebrates the anniversaries, birthdays, special days of their loved one without them by their side, understands that the "milestone" days are some of the hardest. Though blissfully ignorant to what the day will bring, I pray that with the pain there will be much joy.