The Half Marathon

Walking past the twelve mile mark, I realized the duplicity of this walk. I started to get very cursory with my walking habits and realized I was not being very meticulous about my step sizes. Other walkers were walking past me, excited to be so close to the finish line while I was very tepid about the whole situation. I was very averse to this walk and everyone around me could tell. I had a grimace on my face that actually was not related to the cramp building in my left thigh, but the belligerent walk I was experiencing. It was war; between the clock, the miles, and me. Once I realized that I was in combat, even though it was not deadly, I became impetus. I was a soldier, trying to reach safe soil and I was going to be impervious to the pain I was experiencing by being adroit at walking, swinging my arms as though I was in the fight of my life; punching my opponent. After the the last mile I was done. I had won the war and everyone extolled my effort.