My muscles were screaming.  I told my mind to fight through the pain.  Just put one foot in front of the other.  I wanted to give up.  Everything in my mind was ready to quit.  Then I heard it.  Scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff, scuff-scuff.  If he could go on, I could go on.  The finish line is only a few minutes away.  I could make it.

    The morning had started cold and dark.  My family and I had left the house at 5am and headed to Oshkosh for the start of the annual half marathon.  I had been training for the last few months and this was to be the culmination of my training.  At 7 a.m. the whistle sounded and the race was on.  Over 1,000 runners surged forward to complete their dream.  

    At about mile 3 of 13, I came up behind a guy who was wearing some US Military clothing.  His right foot was pointed almost 45 degrees to the right instead of straight forward.  He ran with a significant limp and both of his feet scuffed the ground as he ran.  He was running at the same pace I wanted to run, so I told myself I would stay with him as long as he could keep it up.  For the next mile I followed him before I finally passed him.  I was impressed that this individual with this handicap was so determined.  At mile six I heard the scuff-scuff sound again.  I looked over my shoulder and he was not very far behind me.  For the next six miles he stayed right behind me.  My admiration for this man grew as the race progressed and he was able to keep up with me.  Then we reached mile 12.  1.1 miles remained and my body was ready to quit.  The scuff-scuff got louder, then he drew beside me.  He smiled and said to me, "Last mile, this is when I start to run faster."  He sped up and passed me.  I kept pace with him for the next half mile, then a faster runner passed us both.  He looked at the faster runner and said, "I can keep up with you."  And he was gone.  

    The handicapped man left me in the dust for the final 1/2 mile.  I never saw him again.  I learned an important lesson from this handicapped military man.  I don't know his name, but I certainly sold him short.  It was a reminder that looks can be deceiving.  It is very hard to judge a man's heart.  I wouldn't have suggested that this man should even run the race, much less guess that he would finish ahead of me.  It's a reminder that we should never sell people short.  Physically, spiritually, or otherwise.