The field of grass and patches of wild lilies flaunted their beauty. In a land of the lonely and the lost was a man named Ali Aazim and his friend Mary Louise. "It's been six months since I saw you." The man began to talk, but not without letting a sigh of regret, looking down on the ground unable to face his former friend. Memories rose and captured his heart as feeling began to spill out. Each word he said was another color added to this portrait.

Ali could no longer keep the way he felt inside. Wither it was too late to say it, it was better now than never. "Do you remember the first time we raced together?" Mary stayed with a blank face, unwilling to look up. "It was 1992, the Summer Olympics in Barcelona, Spain. There wasn't a time where I put my running shoes on and didn't remember. You were 23 years old and I, I was just a man in love with racing. You wore deep blue shorts and a white top with the number 045." Then Ali looked up for a moment, willed his tears back so she wouldn't see him cry and went on. "You were the only one who didn't see me as a colleague, but as competition. Everyone else just saw me as a religious man with a hat on my head. They saw me as nothing more than the reason of all terrorist attacks, but you didn't. To me you were the reason I ran because every time I looked beside me there you were looking straight ahead with courage. Your eyes were fierce, yet whenever I looked into them they made me want to race better than I already did.

Once I reached the finish line, I found myself to be in first place, but you weren't there were you? No, instead you showed me, everyone in the Olympics, every runner, and every person cheering at home with the light of the TV blazing in their eyes that there was more to running. I turned in the smoldering heat waiting for everyone to cheer for me, but instead all eyes were on you. With both your hands on top of a female runner who collapsed. The entire track froze as everyone's eyes were focused on you and you alone. Counting to 30, doing mouth to mouth twice, checking on her  breath. It didn't work, once more, then another one, and another till finally she arose with coughs, and cheers from the crowd. That wasn't the end though, you still went on. Carrying her with your arms to the finish line, but before then you took her off  and with her own two feet you pushed her to the finish line.

This line, the line that I thought was so important that I ignored a runner who collapsed right in front of me just because before the game she told me 'you're worthless, you terrorist.' I never felt as much as failure as I did that day standing in front of a crowd and being interviewed by a journalist. That was the first time I saw what a real Olympic racer looked like. You were the first person to teach me a lesson without even talking to me. It was then that I realized not only track and field was a place of equality, not only is it something I love, but it is and always will be my home. You taught me that you looked straight ahead because ever racer wasn't a competition. They were family simply because they had the same love as you and I do for racing.

That isn't were you're story ends though, you and I know that much. The next day I found you running on a field, where I used to run. This day was the first day I talked to you. You were more than I imagined, more companionate, beautiful, and smart. You were the racer I hope to be and you still are. I asked you a question that I held back for so long. 'why did you save that girl? What is the reason you run for? Will you teach me?' You looked at me with those fierce eyes that pierced through my heart and with a calm tone you replied. 'I saved that girl because to me running is like life. I didn't save her so that what comes around goes around, but because I knew the love of running that she had was ten times more than what I have. The reason I run, well- I could I ask the same thing, but that wouldn't change anything now would it. And, why do you need a teacher is the real question, you got first place that seems quiet expectable to me.' At that moment it was then that I knew who should have really won that medal. Though it took awhile you came around and soon enough I was no longer alone.

We practice together for two years. Racing in small tournaments, learning new techniques, finding out which proteins and veggies are the best, and cheering each other on. By then it was 1994, the Winter Olympics. It was what we worked for together for so long. You taught me so much back then, it feels like just yesterday we were pushing each other to do our best. Then came the night before. You don't know this, but I was planning on asking for your hand in marriage. I even got a reservation ready at that restaurant you like so much, but before the waiter brought the sparkling water your mother called. Back then I didn't know, but now that proposal seemed so frivolous compared to your father's death. My heart rate, the one that I used to ignored, the heart you so tenderly cared for was put on hold till this day.

You ran outside and hailed a taxi to go home. It was the first time I saw your face so petrified. The night went so fast and so came the morning. I didn't see you for our morning practice and as understandable as it was I was hoping that you'd come and run at the Olympics. There I was standing waiting for the sign to go and run. It was the first time I was going to run alone since I met you, but then there you were, right beside me. 'What happened?' I asked as I held onto your shoulder you replied with something that I could never understand emotionally. 'My father is died' your voice was strong, filled with anger then we ran. Running and running, it seemed to go on for so long. I wanted to comfort you, I wanted to tell you it was going to be alright, and that I was there for you. I wanted this so bad that for the first time the Olympics wasn't on my mind. Once I caught up to you, I tried my best to comfort you, but you ran even faster. Before then, I got a glimpse of your face in which tears were rolling down. Maybe you ran faster so that the wind would dry your face, or maybe it was because you didn't want to show me this side of yourself. For whatever reason that you ran I hoped that it made you feel even somewhat better in ways that I couldn't help.

Later that day we drove home together. With a medal of first place on your chest and I second you finally let out what you were holding in.  Crying and blubbering you took off the medal and looked at it for a while till you told me the real reason you came to run. It wasn't to win, it wasn't to be brave, it was for your dad. Your dad who you told me gave up everything, got three jobs to make sure you focused on racing. The dad that you called every night, that dad told you to run and to keep on running. As much as I wanted to hug you, to tell you it was going to be okay, I knew that was going to be a lie because from then on you began to practice more than usual. Every action you did was filled with more passion.

We practiced together for another year as 'just friends.' I no longer had the courage to ask you to marry me, I couldn't risk the friendship we had. It was one of the most regretful decisions I did. A year later came the last Olympics track and field we did as friends. July 27, 1996. You were wearing a similar outfit the first time I saw you. We waited for two year practicing for this, at least I did. I promised myself I would ask you to marry me once I won first place. At least this way I'd know I was worthy of someone like you. With the wind on my face and my racing heart not because of the adrenalin or the heat, but because of you. I looked beside me and there you were grinning right back at me.

Though running may be about going fast at that moment I wanted to freeze time and just gaze in your eyes, but other people had different ideas. The building we passed, there was a bombing from some terrorists. Time, instead of freezing went so fast my mind for a few moment couldn't comprehend what was happening. It's when I looked down and saw you lying on the ground with that same face you made from the phone call of your mother. As I held onto your hands from the Olympics to the hospital, I never let go till they took you into surgery.

You know the saying when you're about to die your life flashes before your eyes. Well as cheesy as this is, you were my life. Sitting in the waiting room with blood on my shirt and hands. I went back to the first time I met you, to all the things you taught me, our morning runs, and study sessions. It was then even when you aren't with me that I learned something new. It isn't just when you're about die that your life flashes in front of you. It's when the person you love the most is about to die that the things you love the most are what you really remember. My dream about marrying you, about being with you, it was all gone when the surgeon came out telling me you were gone. He kept on talking, something about a medal pole, but I just couldn't focus, not when you left me.

At first I got angry at you, blaming you that you left me here all alone. Then I blamed the terrorists, after that I wallowed in my own pity. Till finally I came to another realization if you saw me then you would never marry me. So with every might, with every fiber of my being I became an even better racer than I was. I came here today to thank you for everything you have done for me. I not only hope that you now know how much I learned from you, but maybe you also learned something from me. So thank you for everything. With this rose I can finally say goodbye.

As Ali laid the rose which held and engagement ring he remember one last thing before Mary died. Ali felt guilty as he remembered holding her hand  in the ambulance, thinking it was a terrorist who shared the same religion as he did. As if Mary knew what he was thinking she whispered 'a religion is a religion, it's the person that makes it wrong.' It was just a memory, just a few words, but it meant so much to him. Ali looked back in field of grass, lilies, and tombstones. It was no longer lonely, but a place to rest in peace. Ali closed the door of his car and drove away with no regrets and a lifelong lesson that he would never forget.