7. Baltimore 10 Miler

26 NINE (9) Mile : 1h:47m:18s : On Pace!

27 NINE (9) Mile - Ahead 'THIS' Much!

But not for long. My legs are gone! And my toes are still numb. I walk around the next corner; and stop. I bend over and reach for my toes to crack my back. "POP! Pop. Pop." My L4-5, and S1 vertebrae open up. But, not much relief. I walk a few more steps, and then force myself to run. Several more times in the next half-mile I have to walk. It's ALL UPHILL! I could be done...

I run into a crowd of early finishers. They are cheering us on: "You're almost there! KEEP on GOING!" "Just around the curve it's ALL DOWNHILL! You can see the finish line!" ...But I cannot see anything -- my vision is blurred! I feel like I'm moving in slow motion; my legs weigh 1000 pounds each. My heels are crashing into the asphalt like jackhammers -- very slow jackhammers! I am nauseous! I think a race official got right into my face and asked: "Are you OK?" Was I hallucinating?! No ...no, that was just a police officer directing traffic at the park entrance. Yes! That's it! Now I recognize the slate sidewalk! My eyes refocus as I look up and see the crest of the first hill. Only now ...it must be the crest of the LAST HILL!

28 TEN (10) Mile FINISH LINE -- Just Ahead!

Around the curve, and -- THERE IT IS! I stop to take one more picture. Can I sprint the finish? No, it's way too far! I'm going to be sick! I say a quick prayer for RAGS, and I ask the SPIRIT of GOD to carry me, and RAGS, if he needs it. With 50 yards to go, I remember the great miracle of the LORD that I had received five years ago. I break into a sprint! And I give it everything I have left! Finally, I cross the FINISH LINE with a fast, strong limp!

29 PHOTO FINISH [Courtesy CORRIGAN SPORTS]

Chip Time: 1:59:42

A cameraman stepped out of the crowd and focused his big camera square on the finish line as I stepped onto the chip recorder. Somehow, I found the strength to raise my arms in VICTORY! My bib number was announced on the loud-speaker; and then my name! I wanted to shout: "GOD BLESS RAGS!" one more time! But, I was gasping for air and could not speak a word.

Just past the finish line I stopped running, and I gulped down a couple of dry swallows of air to keep from puking. I staggered over to a chair to remove my chip. As I caught my breath and recovered from the abusive finish, I wondered why the cameraman had focused on me!? What was so notable about my finish that my name should be announced on the loud-speaker? My sprint couldn't have been that impressive. Had I peed myself? My bladder felt like it had ripped open during the sprint. Had I lost control of my bodily fuctions, like when you die!? Was I some kind of spectacle? Did my big belly catch their attention? Or my knotty old knees? Maybe it was my big grey beard blowing up in my face!

No! It was none of these things. I know it was not even about me. It was about the hat -- the official RAGS / HEY BUDDY tribute hat! I was wearing the hat in honor of RAGS! Everybody was watching the hat! And they were thinking about their good friend, RAGS! And they were believing: "If that old broken down man with the big grey beard can can run 10 miles -- RAGS can get well again!"

And RAGS will get well again! I believe that with all of my heart!

"HEY BUDDY -- GOD BLESS YOU!"