The starters gun cracked, balloons floated into the Texas sky, and over
ten thousand runners surged forward. My sister Polly bounced like a rodeo
bull, then vanished into the crowd before mile one, calling, “See you at
the finish line!” I jogged alone, slow and steady, taking in the blooming
azaleas. A year ago, I could barely run three blocks. Now I was doing a
10K. Entle had always been the athlete; I would been the nerd no one
picked at recess. But I kept going. When I crossed the finish line, she
was waiting—smiling, proud. And I was proud too.
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