Metaphor Time

So I run for this elite running team. I pay them, and they teach me. (metaphor obvious?)

I knew that this season was a big one. I had found a new love for the sport, and they had lined up some serious races for me. I ran a few mid distance races, and did better then I had ever done before, but the big race was the marathon. All of my training from my entire life was for this race, and I wanted it bad. I toed the line, and was off at the gun. I ran a brilliant race, pacing myself to stay with the leaders, and giving everything I had to cross that finish line the best I could.

After coming across the finish line, I collapsed in victory, I had done it. I fell over, completely spent. Then my trainers came up to me and said "great job on that one, but you have to do this one now." I could hardly believe it, and it took some time to regain my feet. But once I was back on my feet, I took off with the same vigor that I had the marathon. Again, I finished in victory, with my head high; and again I collapsed at the end of it. I wonder if you could guess what happened next.

I ran yet another race. This one caused me to stumble a few times, but I regained my feet and I pushed through. The victory was bitter this time, due to the lack of rest I had stumbled a few times. At the end of that race I collapsed: I had finished the race, but not in victory. How could I with such exhaustion? From the end of the first race I had spent myself entirely, and since then I had put in two more races with no rest.

I am now on what I have been told is the final race: another marathon. The only difference this time is that I do not know if my feet will carry me. I feel that my legs may give out before this one is done. This marathon is walked at an excruciatingly slow pace, making the race seem an eternity; and though I know the course, I am not convinced it will ever end.