37 long grueling days of work left before I quit to pursue something better. 37 days fast intense days to find another source of income. What am I going to do? I have a long list of ways to get by, but nothing substantial. No career path. I just don’t know what I want to do. Well I know what I want, but don’t know how to get there. How does one become a National Geographic Explorer? How does one travel the world documenting what’s going on in places we have never heard of? How does one tell stories of people that we know nothing about? How do we love the unknown? I don’t know how but I do. I love what I don’t know. I love places I’ve never been and people I’ve never met. I love tastes that I could never imagine and experiences I couldn’t have written myself. I love not knowing what the day will bring. I’m not looking for security. I’m not looking for a husband, a job with a good maternity leave, and a house in a safe neighborhood for kids. I’m looking for adventure. I want a life worth telling. I want a life you could read about in books and magazines. I want a life worth living. What I have now I wouldn’t call a life. I’m not living. I’m surviving. I’m passing time. Wasting away. I’m a vegetable and no one has had the courage to pull the cord. Life is my feeding tube. But recently my eyes have begun to flicker. I think might hand might have twitched. Wait it looks like their might be some brain activity. The doctor says I’ll never be the same though. I’ve killed too many brain cells in my coma-like life. Is it too late? Never. I feel the fog lifting. I can hear voices. My eyes aren’t open yet, but the voices are there. The voices are back telling me I’m going to live. I’m going to pull through. It’s not over. There is so much left for you. There are aromas you haven’t smelled. Flavors you have yet to taste. Places to go and so many sites to see. Hearts you have yet to touch. Life you have yet to live. It is all waiting for you. Just hold on. Wake up. Open your eyes. Come to life. Breath. Take out the tubes of mediocrity crippling you. Wake up Amy. As I struggle to come to life I feel fear. I don’t know where I am. I don’t know what I’m able to do. Will I ever run again? Can I leave the comfort of the known. The comfort of being average. The comfort of not failing due to not trying. What if I fail? Can failing be worse than this numbness. Can trying be worse than feeling like a victim to unfair circumstances? What if I’m not good enough? Is it worse than knowing I’m better than to live out my remaining days in a coma? What can you accomplish in a coma? All you can do is imagine how you were made for something more. She was so young. She had so much life yet to live before she put herself coma of average. It’s like a dream the moment before you wake when you realize you are dreaming. You are relieved it’s just a dream. There is the small voice that says wake up. Hurry and wake up. You are going to be ok. This isn’t real. This coma isn’t real. It’s just a dream, more of a nightmare where you run and run but your legs are heavy. So heavy. You know you can run faster, but the lead in your legs is slowing you down. If you could just run as fast as you know you can run you’d make it to safety. The bad guy wouldn’t catch you. Legs Run!!! Wake up Amy. I’m awake. I can run. I can breathe. I’m ready to live. Life what do you have for me? I don’t need any more insecurity. I’ve had my share of doubt. Give me the good stuff. Give me what you have given the heroes. Give me hope. Give me life. If you don’t give it to me I will take it. I will take it and never give it back. I will be great. Nothing will stop me. I’m ready. Even though my muscles have atrophied and my mind is muddled. I can’t remember what greatness feels like I know it feels great. My coma has made me realize how wonderful life is. The soreness my body feel reminds me that I was made to move. Move mountains. Move hearts. So I’m at the starting line. I’m down in a runner’s start position. My muscles are twitching in nerves and anticipation. I look around and no one else is around. Where are the other runner’s? When will the gun blast? When do I start? I’m ready. Someone tell me when to start. Judge? Wait is this a sprint or marathon? Am I prepared. Just give me the sign to go. My muscles start to relax. I’m waiting. Maybe I should stretch some more? No I feel ready. Let’s go. If I’m to run alone in this race why do I need someone to tell me when to start. Start now Amy. Now? I didn’t hear a bang, a go, or start. You don’t need one. This is your life. Just go. Now? Yes. RUUUUNNNNNNN!!!!