100m Dash

Sweat gleaming, glistening

Panting

Bending over

Struggling for breath

.

The announcer

The 100m dash is over

But a new race is about to begin

Startled, I hear my voice over the loud speaker

.

The announcer

The 100m dash is over

But a new race is about to begin

Startled, I hear my voice over the loud speaker

.

“Take your positions!”

No choice

But to walk my tired body to the new start line

“Excuse me. What race is this one?” I ask

.

“It’s a marathon, over varied terrain.

You won’t know what’s ahead of you until you get there.

Are you ready?”

Hell no!!!!!

.

Too late.

My name has been called.

I must run this race

Prepared, or not

.

The bell clangs

I start to run

Battling fears and thoughts in my head

How can I run a marathon, when I’ve just finished a sprint?

.

Who said I was good enough for this?

Who thought I had capacity for this?

Why have I been chosen

To run this race?

.

There must be some mistake

I don’t have the skill level for this

Others around me

Pushing ahead and pushing through

.

“You can do it!” They encourage

“We’ve been there! You can do this race!”

Who to believe?

Fear and anxiety jostle each other

.

But it doesn’t matter how I feel

I have a race to run.

This poem describes how I felt when I heard my baby in my second pregnancy had Downs Syndrome. I had struggled enough as a parent of my “normal” first child – I had no idea how to manage being the parent of a child with disabilities. It felt like I had struggled to run a normal 100m race, and now I had a marathon in front of me.