A Face of Triumph

A woman crossing the finish line during event take down.

A Face of Triumph

Potential early morning triumph brought throngs of competitors and their supporters to the town square and the finish line for an early fall marathon. People were lining the road leading to the finish line holding signs and cheering as runners charged forward toward the end of their run and the carnival-like atmosphere there, around the main stage.

That platform held a live band which was blasting music to surround everyone as they milled around, laughed and sampled products from the event sponsors.  Smiles of individual achievement were on almost every face and many people were wearing race medals around their necks which certified they had completed the course.  It was like a vast party on the square.

And, like the race, the party was coming to an end.  The racers, their supporters and the vendors began taking their success and grins toward other destinations and activities.  It wasn’t like a rush to an exit.  It was more like a trickle at first, almost imperceptible in effect, sort of like the steady stream of slower runners still pounding the street toward completion, victory and conclusion.

Soon, the crowd was gone, the music stopped and trucks were loaded with barricades, tents and all pieces of the stage.  It looked like the end of the event.  But it was neither the end of event nor the end of triumph.  As it turns out, one more competitor would cross the finish line.

Few would see her trudging forward, but there were a few.  You see, it had been hours since the first competitors completed their run for glory.  So, it had to be more than the sight of her running that caught my attention.  There was also the crisp staccato of appreciative clapping.  But, neither of those stimulants cemented the significance that this runner delivered with her finish.

It was the look on her face.  Hers was the genuine face of triumph.

Potential early morning triumph brought throngs of competitors and their supporters to the town square and the finish line for an end to an early fall marathon. People were lining the road leading to the finish line, holding signs and cheering as runners charged forward toward the end of their successful run.  It was a carnival-like atmosphere there around the main stage.

Now that stage was gone.  The metals had been awarded and the crowd had vanished.

“Too bad!” I thought.  “They missed what very few saw; an improbable victory.”

It was not a victory over others.  It was a victory of one, the joyful face of a person who had faced true struggle and defeated it.  It was the look of satisfaction.  She, the last runner to finish, displayed the face of triumph for all of us, because many of us have been in her shoes.  I know I have.

I treasured the sight of her victory because it reminded me of the value of such personal triumph.  It resonates with the heart.  Her amazing finish displayed the gratification of completing something no one else thought she could.  It personified the rewards of defeating one’s own self-doubt.

The last runner to finish the race wore the face of triumph for herself and for all of us.