My son calls me his balcony person. By that, he means that I cheer him on as he runs the race of life.

I praise him for his accomplishments, encourage him through his disappointments, support him in difficult situations and confirm him in his efforts to overcome. I picked up that role of championing others years ago.

Perhaps the aptitude came attached to the job of mothering. Maybe I adopted the skill through my junior and senior high school years of cheerleading. Most likely, "go team, go" naturally morphed into "go son, go." Whatever the origin, I am an enthusiastic devotee and an ardent advocate for those who pursue their goals.

In order to pick a race, one needs inspiration. In order to run in that race, one needs preparation. But in order to finish a race, one needs determination. What was that famous five-word speech given by Winston Churchill? Oh yes — it was "Never, never, never give up!" The valid war demands valor; the authentic task requires audacity, and the bona fide dream calls for bravery. All runners must know more than the location of the finish line. Each runner must boldly persevere through every quitting point encountered along the race in order to attain the goal and cross that finish line.

On Oct. 20, 1968, a marathon runner named John Stephen Akhwari placed his feet against the starting blocks, awaiting the shot from the starter's pistol, to begin his Olympic race in Mexico City. The young man had represented his native Tanzania across Africa in many competitions and was the favorite to win the 26-mile, 385-yard marathon. A disciplined runner with great talent and undaunted determination, John Stephen competently burst out of the blocks and took his place at the front of the runners.

Hours passed before the marathon participants reappeared in the stadium. Each entered to the applause of the crowd and the adoration of the spectators. The winners were awarded the gold, silver and bronze. The Olympics' closing ceremony was concluding when the sound of police sirens could be heard in the distance and the sight of motorcycles with flashing blue lights could be seen on the boulevard outside of Olympic Stadium. The announcement came over the loudspeaker for the audience to remain seated.

The doors opened. A marathon runner came into view. He was bloodied and bandaged, hobbling as each step rewarded him with pain. The man, appearing hours after the last marathon runner had completed the race, was none other than the event favorite, John Steven Akhwari. He had taken a hard fall early in the race in which he had struck his head, injured his knee and even been trampled upon. After receiving medical attention on site, Akhwari determined to complete the nearly 25 miles that lie before him.

As he entered the stadium, the crowds began to cheer. He rounded the track and crossed the finish line to a thunderous ovation. The applause was not for the victor who won the race but rather acknowledged the champion who completed the race. That day, John Steven Akhwari became an Olympic legend. The next day, when interviewed by reporters who asked him why he continued after his injury when he knew he would be unable to win, Akhwari responded, "My country did not send me over 11,000 kilometers to start a race. They sent me over 11,000 kilometers to finish one."

To my son — and to all the sons or daughters — who slip and fall, who feel the rough and tumble, who are bruised and battered in the race of life, run on. I and all other balcony people of the world applaud, praise and confirm you as you stay in the race and cross your finish line.

Patti Amsden is co-pastor of Son-Life Church in Collinsville.