About two-and-a-half years ago, she bought a treadmill. It was an impulse buy after two kids at the mall had made a rude comment she’d overheard. For six months, the thing sat in the den’s corner, collecting dust. It made a fine coat rack.

A flurry of spring cleaning unburied it. A spark of something she could not name caused her to get on it the next afternoon. Just 5 minutes. Just 5 more minutes. Before she knew it instead of dashing to the kitchen for a snack on commercial breaks, she used that time on the treadmill. It seemed like with almost no effort, she moved to thirty minutes, then to an hour.

“Are you losing weight?”

“What are you doing differently?”

Those were the questions she got, and she casually shrugged off. It was her secret, and she did not want to share.

Six months ago, she happened across a flyer for a 5K being held in the next town over. She quickly stuffed it into her purse before anybody saw it, and she took another two months before she had the courage to sign up for it.

And now here she was. She was one of many who were crowded around the starting line, waiting for the signal to surge people into motion. A few people cast looks her way. She always smiled politely. Their look all said that she did not belong here. They were trained runners, and she was not by a long shot. There was a sudden hush throughout the crowd. It was getting closer. With a push of a button, music flooded into her ears. A loud, steady beat as she watched the countdown.

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

… and they were off!

The surrounding people took off like the Hare. But she was the Tortoise. Slow and steady finishes the race. Today was not about winning. Not this race, at least. As she followed the gazelle-like sprinters ahead of her with her own less-than-graceful movements, she took one quick look behind her. The large white banner with that single world emblazoned was a statement. Turning back around, she smiled. Never looking behind her again. Next time she saw those bold words would be when she crossed under them.