The Penguin
I can see the finish line, and I feel an emotional rush that transforms me from a mere mortal into a mythical creature with winged feet. Well, okay maybe not winged feet. How about a mythical creature with webbed feet? Forget eagles and sparrows; it’s time to celebrate the power of penguins.
You’ve seen a penguin run. A chaotic flurry of feet. A living testimony to the dominance of will over form.
And many of those, for whom a 10K qualifies as their long run for the week, represent no less a victory of will over form.
With the indomitable force of glaciers, we plod and shuffle our way through race after race.
More amazingly to you eagles and sparrows, we penguins are having the time of our lives.
Not so long ago, the very notion that someone with limited talent would enjoy being a runner was heresy. But then slower runners began showing up at races. And much to the surprise of some in the running community, these slower folks seemed to be having much more fun than those sprinting up ahead. This pure, unadultered fun made running contagious. It may surprise the eagles to know that we, the penguins, are truly doing the best we can. One cannot undo the physical effects of 30 or 40 or more years of neglect and abuse in a matter of weeks or months.
Our running shoes are really erasers. Every step erases a memory of a past failure. Every mile brings us closer to a clean slate. Each footstrike rubs away a word, a look, or an event that led us to believe that success was beyond our grasp.
For penguins, the miracle is that we had the courage to find our way to the starting line. Getting to the finish line is simply the frosting on the cake.
—John Bingham