Don’t Stop Running.

A few days ago, my twin sister and I made our way home from a long weekend in Palm Springs with friends. One thing led to another and we walked down Memory Lane to that one time we backpacked through Europe in college. We spent a month floating from various countries, but our memories always find their way to get back to a particular train deck in Italy. Attempting to travel from Florence to Rome, something awful happened and we still couldn't determine what went so wrong. Last week in the car, my sister and I tried to figure it out.

The Story:
Our cab ran late to the train station.
We still had to buy tickets to Rome.
We sprinted through the train depot to find our departing track.
With the train in our sight, we ran as fast as we could with our heavy backpacks.
Then the train started to pull away from the track, slowly.
I sprinted faster…
…and my sister just–stopped.
No words, Bianca simply stopped running.
“WHAT ARE YOU DOING,” I shrieked from a distance.
She just shrugged.
I stomped back to where she was standing and asked why she stopped, why she gave up.
“It was too late, we missed our train, so why try?”
That's when I did the most horrid thing in my life: I slapped her.
Clear across her freckled cheek, my hand smacked her face.
And there we stood, shocked.

Writing this story makes me cringe. It's the worst thing I've done to my sister and the memory of it still makes me crumble a bit. But, seated in her car years later on our drive home from Palm Springs, she asked why I slapped her. I fumbled for words and then settled for the following…

I slapped you because you gave up.
Even if you had a 1% chance of jumping on that train, you should have tried.
You should have fought until there wasn't any more fight to fight.
For the rest of your life–even when the odds are stacked against you–please, run after the train…and don't stop. Ever.