The way I figure it, everyone gets a miracle. It could be something so magnificent as to have all the meaning in the world to everyone or it could simply be one for you. The measures of all miracles are endless, infinite. But as John Green once said, “Some infinites are simply bigger than others.” I believe the same goes for miracles. It’s just your decision of what you classify as your miracle.

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You know that feeling where you’ve been running for a long time at the same pace and it’s hard to feel your legs? You just continue running, not even feeling your feet hit the ground, almost gliding on air. But, your lungs are almost ripping out your body, screaming inside. You can feel your pulse vibrating in your head and the only thing on your mind is finishing. Yeah, I know that feeling too; I experience it almost every day the second I wake up. Running constantly on this person everyone presumes you to be, afraid to try and play a different sport or act a different way or someone will comment “That’s not like of you to do that.” And it’s absolutely exhausting. No one can be other than what someone expects them to be. Even the crazy, wild people are expected to act spontaneous and not the same. But I guess that’s the way it’s always been, and will stay for now. Because I’m still running and out of breath, determined to be this person everyone expects me to be.

In elementary school, there was this girl I always played with at recess. She was the witty one, always knew exactly what to say all the time, which is naturally impressive, and we were only in third grade. I would hang out with all my friends, and we would have races. Now, I wasn’t the best at sprinting or anything. But I was an eight-year-old-boy and I wasn’t going to wimp out. She came over to our group one day and asked to play. Most of my friends laughed at her, hoping to guilt her out of asking. But she simply stood, wide-eyed, and waited for a response. She turned to me and asked, “Jason, can I race too?” I simply nodded. She grinned and turned towards the group and asked, “Now which one of you all am I going to beat first?” And, sure enough. She beat them all. I don’t exactly recall her being the swiftest runner; she just used their cockiness against them. I raced a few times too, won a few, lost a few. Probably lost more than won. But afterwards she still came by to congratulate me. “Thanks for letting me play.” I nodded quickly, catching back my breath. “You know you could’ve beaten them. Sometimes all it takes is a little confidence.” She smiled.

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Isn’t life the same way? You’re running and running and completely exhausted, if I might say, of achieving this goal of satisfying everybody. The real question is, why do we even care? “Everybody” is just the people we go to school with, are friends with, go to work with. But it’s like we are still trying to win them over by staying the same person “we are”. Trust me; I’m guilty of it too. I just don’t think we have a valid reason yet.

Most of us don’t even know who we are and we may never find them. And that is okay. Maybe we weren’t meant to find out, either. But please, stop. Stop sprinting. It’s okay you’re not the fastest one there. Take a deep breath, put your hands over your head, and run a cool-down. Then, pick back up and go jogging. Jog somewhere not on a track where everyone else likes to run, but somewhere different. Run around forests and lakes, and maybe stop a couple times to admire the view.

Let me tell you this. Maybe a step off the track is the entire miracle you need. You don’t have to sit back and wait for life to hand you a pretty box covered in ribbons and paint to be your miracle. It is your life. Not anyone else’s. You can go out and discover your own figure and your own miracle whenever you want. Sometimes all it takes is a little confidence.