The First Marathon

Hamid was forty-five, and he never did any exercise. One cold morning in January, he ran for the bus and missed it. After only one minute of running, he was out of breath.

That evening, he told his daughter, Shirin, about the bus. She laughed. "Dad, you need to get fit," she said. "There's a marathon in our city in October. Why don't you run it?"

"A marathon is forty-two kilometers!" said Hamid. But the next morning, he put on his old running shoes. "OK," he told Shirin. "I'm going to do it."

The first weeks were hard. On his first run, Hamid stopped after ten minutes. He felt older and slower than everybody in the park. But he went running again the next day, and the day after that.

Slowly, it got easier. In March, he could run five kilometers. By August, he could run thirty. He felt stronger and happier than before, and he slept better too.

On the day of the race, it was cold and rainy, and Hamid was nervous. The first twenty kilometers went well. But after thirty kilometers, his legs felt heavier, and every step was harder than the last.

Then he saw Shirin at the side of the road. She was holding a big sign. It said, "Go, Dad! You're faster than the bus now!" Hamid laughed, and suddenly his legs felt lighter.

He finished in five hours and twelve minutes, much slower than the winner. But Hamid didn't care. "So, what are you going to do next?" asked Shirin. "Next year, I'm going to run it again," he said. "And you're going to run with me!"