"I held myself back from a lot of other things in life. Now, with a free mind to fly, I needed to slow down so I would not burn myself out in mile one."

A brisk sunny morning in New York City during the end of a grueling winter signaled my first ever race that I would partake in. This 5K would set the stage for other races I would run in. I remember waking up Sunday morning of race day and wanting to get to Central Park as soon as possible. The excitement of earning my first finishers medal gave me enough energy that no cup of joe could. The finisher's medal symbolizes something deeper I wanted to prove to myself. Before leaving my apartment, I ate a light breakfast of eggs and fruit. When my wife pinned my race bib to my sweater, I saw those numbers like a stamp of approval to push past the limit.

I sat proudly on the train with my wife, wearing my number like a superhero logo on my chest. At every stop the train passed, I imagined myself running with the train, leaping through scenes of different neighborhoods to obtain my prize. When we got off the train, I wanted to sprint down the Manhattan avenues to Central Park when I saw more runners wearing their numbers up ahead.

Central Park, the natural organic heart of New York City, would be turned into a serene green arena for others to express themselves in running form. Before making my way to the starting line, I kissed my wife and stood amongst the other participants. I looked around at all walks of life huddled together, getting ready to meet their own goals with thanksgiving in my heart to share this memory with them.

After the national anthem, the countdown began, and my heart was racing before my feet made strides forward. The countdown ended, and the gun went off, causing the army of runners to move toward the finish line one muscle contraction at a time. I tried my best to stay with the pack of hundreds of people, but I couldn't help but gallop and take long strides from the back of the pack. I needed to release the pent-up excitement of getting myself to participate in this shared event with other people who wanted to push themselves for the better. For most of my life, I held myself back from competing seriously, such as events like this. I held myself back from a lot of other things in life. Now, with a free mind to fly, I needed to slow down so I would not burn myself out in mile one.

During my run, I took in the beauty of Central Park, with the skyline of trees and skyscrapers in the background and the morning sun reflecting off the buildings. The twists and turns mimicked the unexpected hardships of my life. The uphill runs in mile two replicated the uphill battles I faced within myself. The cold temperatures and my hurting muscles reflected the heartache of feeling alone during my struggles. The frigid temperatures soon went away when communicating with other runners using the sounds of footsteps pounding on the ground as a universal language of love and drive. The pain went away and became beautiful, like the park.