The sunlight hits my eyes—early, relentless.
I rise for one purpose: to train for the marathon.
It's a week away, and my preparation starts here.

Clothes on, shoes laced, a banana in hand.
The road greets me as I jog into the morning.

I pace myself. This will be my first marathon,
but something in me demands more—
a quiet, relentless drive to excel.

I feel the fatigue creeping in.
A sip of water steadies me.
I jog, I jog, and I jog again.

A vibration on my wrist—
a message from my mother,
her worry is familiar.
I reply, reminding her of her meds,
then focus back on the rhythm of my steps.

Lap done, home in sight.
This pattern repeats, day after day.

The marathon begins.
At the starting line, I am ready.
I have paced myself,
and my moment awaits.