Whatever it may be, nothing will stop you from finishing a task and seeing it through until the end. That is where your determination, desire and faith take control—when your limitations start appearing.

For me, it is fair to say that marathons have come to a respectable closure…at least for now. I dominated my first marathon, got cut off in the second marathon yet still finished the race, dealt with stomach cramps and helped a few people get through their first marathons whilst I finished my third, ran for Children’s and spread my cause across my fourth marathon and then refused to give in and did everything in my power to cross the finish line in my fifth marathon.

That sounds like a great, all-around accomplishment to me. I started running to get back what my aneurysm took from me—obviously my strength, but independence was discovered as well. My parents, especially my dad, gave up a lot in order to take care of me and make sure that I remained healthy. He definitely has done a lot for me. So how cool is it that, after my injury in Boston, I wound up meeting up with my parents at mile 21 and had my dad walk the rest of the way, encouraging me to keep moving forward and finish the damn race. He wasn’t going to let me quit. Marathons were a huge part of me discovering my independence. The strength I have gained from them has taken me so far beyond I ever could have imagined, yet the whole time my dad remained by me, watching over me. I ran as a way to gain independence. I had gained independence, yet despite being fully independent, my dad walked me to the finish line.

Talk about coming full circle.

Sure, I could run more races, but all I would be doing is repeating feats I have already accomplished. Fact is, there is so much left to be untapped and challenged. It’s time for me to find my next adventure by exploring this once uncharted life I currently live and discover what other adventures lie here. I have extended my ability and my awareness so much further than I ever could have imagined because of running marathons. The further out you can extend yourself the more opportunity and ability you have available to you.

I would never have started studying taekwondo if I hadn’t improved my physical ability and my dexterity by running. I’ll be testing for my brown belt next and I could actually be a black belt in taekwondo very soon. Me, the 3 year old lying for dead in a hospital bed, could be a black belt.

With everything I have gained there is so much more to attempt with my newfound ability instead of repeatedly running a marathon. I can teach myself to ride a bike now. Maybe I’ll learn to surf. Hey, why not try to do the splits…or, better yet, I could hire a physical therapist again and see how far a self-motivated Greg can go.

Hmm, maybe I could say that I don’t need to focus on where I can physically improve. Reason being because that has become part of my daily regimen. Again, it isn’t something new.

With that being said, I definitely want to learn how to sign. How cool would it be to aim towards inspiring a completely different culture that experience very similar, if not identical, limitations as me? How cool, and appropriate, would it be for me to be able to converse with and extend my reach to everyone I possibly could as I speak? Isn’t that what an advocate is supposed to do? Everyone deserves to feel equal, so I shouldn’t be ignoring a potential part of my audience who deserves to be inspired as well.

With that, I guess I at least know what my next immediate adventure is. And like running, who knows exactly where or how far studying ASL will carry me. Every action leads you somewhere. As long as I am trying something new, I can guarantee that I am being led somewhere I have never been. Or, in the case that I am led to somewhere I have been before, I am able to see that situation or environment in a new light, with a new perspective.

Where do I even begin? Oh boy…

I came into this race with confidence—that is the only way to live your life. I had my goal in mind: I was going to run a 3:30. I never doubted my ability to do that. Doubt is the source of our limitations. The reason we can’t achieve lengths beyond where we are is because doubt and the resulting hesitation weighs on the motivation that drives us forward and kills the momentum. The desire to continue pursuing is destroyed because doubt snuffs the flame.

Deep down I knew I wasn’t ready to run a 3:30 marathon. I had to take off 9 months running in 2009, and let’s not forget that I lost over a month of training due to the beyond massive snow blizzard of 2010 that demolished the DC area. I still did everything I could to strengthen my right leg as fully as possible. I even stretched 2 hours a day to make sure my muscles, ligaments and tendons could withstand running 26.2 miles. I just needed more time, but everyone wants more time. I didn’t have the luxury, so I did all I could…I ran.

I ran and I ran with confidence. I got to the first few watering stations and they didn’t even have water set up yet because they weren’t expecting anyone to be zipping through when I did. I knew within the first couple miles that my right leg was weak and would not be able to withstand my intended marathon pace for the full distance. Not being able to run the full distance is not the same as being able to make it across the finish line.

I felt weak from the beginning. 4 or 5 miles in, I began to think about why I was running. Then, at about mile 8, I decided I would keep running until my right leg, which was progressively getting weaker, was ready to give out. Between miles 11 and 12 I started to walk, and in that moment I started walking everything became clear.

I ran my very first marathon for me. I trained for that marathon every day, running 6 days a week for 18 months. No one believed I could run a marathon then. I had to show everyone, including myself, what I could do. Ever since the first, I have had nothing personal to prove. Yeah, it would be incredible to run a 3:30 marathon—that would be an incredible individual accomplishment. Yet, after the first marathon, people believed in me…and they followed me, supported me.

People I didn’t even know not only cared about my endeavor, but gave me their compassion and their prayers. I had support in my first marathon, but in each run since that first one, people didn’t follow my quest. Instead, my friends and loved ones cheered me on. It stopped becoming about proving people wrong and became a way to show everyone who was selfless enough to love me just how far their determination and will can carry them as long as their confidence remains unblemished.

Running a 3:30 felt wrong. It felt like something was missing. 3:30 is a selfish act, and the only reason I have done 5 marathons is because of the incredible amount of support I have received from everyone. Carrying everyone who supported me along the journey in Boston mattered more to me than running a stupid 3:30. The people are what make the marathon meaningful anyways. Running an 8-minute mile average for 26.2 miles is a stat—a stat that people will quickly forget—but inspiring people along that course lasts a lifetime.

So that was it, my right glute was giving out and the very outside of my knee chamber was starting to become painfully aggravated at the bone. As I was in medical getting it wrapped, the female elite runners zipped by. I was kinda bummed I didn’t get to run with them, but all the trailing elite females were talking to me and telling me to keep going as they too zipped on by.

I continued on my merry way for a mile or so and was greeted by the most amazing sound any 25-year-old male could hear—the sound of hundreds of screaming college females at Wellesley College…thank God! I may not have run the 3:30, but I got to stop at Wellesley and hang out with the girls for 10 minutes. Trust me, the 5 kisses or so I got there were worth the entire race. I did, however, run with the elite men lead pack for all of 3 seconds, but it’s pretty damn awesome to be able to say that I actually ran with Ryan Hall and those freakin’ Kenyans and Ethiopians.

In all seriousness though, fate exists and things happen for a reason. If you don’t believe me, let me give you a few reasons why you should.

I went to the runner’s expo after getting myself registered and went crazy buying clothing and stuff to celebrate my final marathon. I get to the register and the total comes up $242.75. This is my 2^nd Boston Marathon (2), my birthday is April 2 (42), and my number has always been 75. Pure coincidence maybe, but let’s continue.

Need another reason? I was simply walking aimlessly under the athlete’s village tent after getting my pre-race massage when I have a girl with a cameraman calling me over. Turns out they are students at Emerson College trying to find reasons why people actually run 26.2 miles, looking for people with unique or inspirational stories. I told Christine right off the bat that she hit the jackpot, and you should have seen how floored she was.

Out of everywhere I could have gone in the entire athlete’s village, I found the two students who were filming inspirational stories about the marathon…seriously?! To top it off, they followed my entire pre-race prep and got at least 15 minutes of interview material out of me.

Now that I may have you starting to believe in this, here comes the hook.

I walked during the race. I got to run with the elite athletes, I had the wheelchairs and push rims zoom past me and was able to share my story with a lot of people along the course. Two highlights come to mind of people that I met. First off, I walked up to this guy, who wound up being named Greg, and we started talking. He is training for an Ironman and was planning on taking the second half of the course easy. I share my story with him and he is blown away…blown away to the point where he ruins his time and decides to walk with me. I tried to tell him he didn’t have to, but he wanted to. So he walked with me…for 3 miles. We are now Facebook friends and I honestly could not ask for a better friend. I honestly cannot say enough about him, but I am so thankful that we are friends and that across 26.2 miles and a sea of 26,000 runners we timed our positioning at the exact moment and actually engaged each other. Seriously…how?

If that isn’t cool enough, here is the sinker.

Later on the course, I’m still walking along, and I see two people walking. One is an older man who was fighting to keep pace with a younger woman who was doing a combination walk and jog through the course. I engage with them and start talking to the older man, as the woman is moving a bit ahead of us…and I share my story with him. As I am sharing my story, the woman looks over her shoulders and asks if she heard me correctly about being a brain aneurysm survivor. …She’s a neurosurgeon.