by Kalia Douglas-Micallef
“But I’m tired,” I moaned and huffed as my mother and I arrived at a crosswalk with the red hand flashing.
“There are no red lights in marathons,” my mother would say.
“Keep jogging on the spot!”
My mother, Gabriella, transformed her life through running. At times, it seemed that running was the new love of her life in place of me, her daughter. I would wait in the early mornings for what seemed like forever for my mom to come back from her long runs. I would be the last one to be picked up at birthday parties due to her running.
She travelled far and wide, just for running. Continue reading “There Are No Red Lights in Marathons”