Of Races, Flat Tires and Rain

Last Monday, on July 4th, I participated in the Peachtree Road Race in Atlanta. The Peachtree Road Race is considered the nation's largest 10k, and an Atlanta tradition, so it goes without saying that the energy was literally bouncing off the roads. As I mentioned in an earlier post, my sister Rachel was by my side every step of the way. For this reason, I'm very proud of her. It was not an easy feat. Because of everything my parents did to her, she lives each day in constant pain. I think when something bad happens (like what happened to my sister) those who watch from afar want to see the judicial system hand out a judgement that fully vindicates the victim. Unfortunately, many people who have been abused, like Rachel, go about their lives with a lasting physical reminder of what happened to them, once upon a time. This is a reality that most people would like to forget.

I have watched my sister accomplish many amazing things, but I've also seen where she pushes herself too hard. So much, in fact, she is rendered immobile, her body searing with pain from injuries inflicted years ago. Because of this, I had to make sure to take it slow for her sake. She is a full fledged survivor and does not often let anything get in her way, including her own health.

The first three miles of the race were smooth sailing. The following two miles were for the most part on an incline. These were the hardest for Rachel and we took breaks often. Not because she wanted to, but because I made her. I didn't favor the idea of her ending up like a few of the others we'd passed who'd fainted and were surrounded by medical staff.

By the time we crossed the finish line, it had occurred to me more than once how it was very symbolic to be running a 10k on Independence Day, accomplishing something hard in honor of freedom. It seemed very symbolic of our journey together as brother and sister. Together we had fought to break free and although it hadn't been easy, we'd made it. One year ago, I set a goal for myself that I would run a 10k. Although I don't believe it will be my last, I can now proudly cross it off my bucket list.

Later that day, on our drive over to Atlanta'a Centennial Olympic Park, our back tire blew out on the interstate...in the rain. Thirty minutes and one spare tire later, we were sitting on the grassy lawn staring up into a rainy sky to view the firework display. So what if our tire blew out? So what if we were soaked and cold? We had the freedom to celebrate together as a family, a freedom that we'd fought hard for. Independence doesn't mean getting everything that you want, it means fighting for all you've got and enjoying the moments together. As long as you remember to do that, no amount of flat tires or rain could ever take it away.