THE ROCK FINISHED ME (The sequel to "I FINISHED THE ROCK")

DNF.

In the NASCAR world, when a car doesn't cross the finish line whether it be engine failure, a wreck, a spring coil breaks loose from the rotary endline girder...whatever...they call it DNF. It stands for Did Not Finish.

That's what my race result will read forever after my attempt at running the 2007 White Rock Marathon in Dallas.

My training started on August 6, 2007 with a three mile run. From that point I ran more than 580 miles, never missed a workout or run, ran in Tampa, Florida and Salt Lake City, Utah, ran in the heat, ran in the rain, ran in the cold, ran in the dark, ran in the light, ran and ran and ran.

I don't run with music in my ears so all I have is my thoughts, and all I thought about was the marathon and my goal of finishing in three hours and twenty minutes or less. 03:20:00. That's it, that's all I thought about. I thought about strategy, pace, injuries, apparel, recovery, victory, success and triumph.

I never once thought about failure.

It never crossed my mind.

Four months of serious training, twelve months of running with my goal pace swimming around like a great white shark in my mind - thinking about, dreaming about the marathon. 364 days I thought about it every day. The marathon consumed me.

So, one could imagine that at the 20 mile mark, when the realization of not reaching my goal was inching up my aching calves over my knees and to my quads, I resisted. Surely after all the running, thinking, dieting, stretching, cross-training, swimming and support, it couldn't end like this - with me in the back of an ambulance fighting dehydration and hypothermia.

My unbelievable supportive family waiting at the finish line with cameras, binoculars and signs in hand for a runner who would never appear. Waiting for a dream and a goal that would never be realized. Waiting for a phone call - "Mrs. Rogers? Your husband is fine - but he's not going to finish today. It's not his day."

My legs failed me about a half-mile past 20. They just wouldn't work. Not so much a cramp, more of a complete muscle failure in my entire legs that eventually worked its way to my shoulders, back and neck.

My dream lay five miles away. As they say, so close yet so far.

My vision of crossing the line at a full sprint with arms raised and a smile across my face which I had seen for so long on so many runs - vanished. Vanished in the sense that it would not happen, but still very much apart of my mind. A vision which will haunt me for at least a year. A vision which is now like a close relative's death - so very much a part of you...now gone, now the pain.

Thoughts of success, strategy, victory and accomplishment were tossed aside, replaced by thoughts of disappointment, failure, weakness and sorrow.

When you invest in anything a great deal - work, sports, your car, a hobby - the highs are really high and the lows are really low.

I experienced a high last year, when my goal was reached. I experienced a low on Sunday, when my goal slipped through my fingers like a wet fish on a cold day.

Gone.

There for so long - through the pain, the sleep deprivation, the endless pounding of feet on pavement, the near death experiences of running on a two-lane highway - through everything...everything.

Now gone.

At first you think "NO, surely it's just right underneath the water. I can just reach down and it will be there. It's not out of reach yet. I've worked too hard." But it doesn't take long to realize that, no, it's not just beneath the water. My dream is slowly yet rapidly falling through the seaweed, drifting faster and faster, never again to be seen, soon to be resting far below on the soft mud, hidden by the rock of failure...forever.

Gone.

No.

DNF.