don't let them

In June I visited my homeland in Europe for a week. I ran five days out of the seven I spent there. The other two days I skipped running because I slept over at my sister's place, and logistics were hard to manage. I took my first run three hours after the plane landed, not having slept for 24 hours. I ran on streets, although uneven pavement and potholes could qualify my run as rough terrain work. I had only an approximate idea about mileage, so I kept track of time – at least 45 minutes each time. I caught a cold, and still I ran. I ran for my life.

My parents took the news about my running without much fuss. They had not seen me in years and consequently indulged me. But my father told me, after a few days, that one runs a marathon when one is 21 or 24, not when one is… 41 or 42.

That kind of statement must have shattered my self-confidence when I was a child. It must have devastated me, that this was all the belief in me he had to offer.

I did not reply. I am an adult now. There’s no need to get devastated. My father doesn’t influence my determination to wake up in the morning and run. He doesn’t have a say in the output of my muscles. He doesn’t control the power of my will. I can run the marathon, no matter what my father thinks. I can run the marathon, no matter what anyone thinks. I can run a marathon.

Don’t let them – anyone – separate you from your dream.