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[0:00] Brad Forenza: Whoo! Excuse me. Those first eight episodes have me winded, but here we are at the almost finish, and in honor of today's finale, Marathon, starring François Clemmons, tell us what it means to be winning the race by hashtagging Around the Sun podcast. I'm series creator Brad Forenza saying thank you for listening to Around the Sun.

[0:21] François Clemmons: It is a crisp fall day in the city of New York as the runner thoughtfully contemplates the race ahead. It is dark and uncertain at the start of your race. You lie in waiting at the center of your universe amidst the sea of runners for what seems like an eternity. You lie snugly protected from the elements by the walls of your cocoon deriving nourishment from within. Your senses are dull, but you feel things, a welcome anticipation in the world around you. You receive and you respond. Theoretically, you and the other runners will enter on equal footing. Any one of you can win the race, but what in life is equal, and what does it really mean to win? The steel is a dying art, and here I always thought you and Cindy were the team to beat.

When the dawn breaks over Fort Wadsworth, you're finally out of the darkness, but still packed in tightly, this time corralled among rungs of racism. The starting line is less certain than the wound. It felt safer there. You want to go back, but you're out in the world now. Franklin is a good kid. He always has been. We have to be unconditionally supportive and meet him where he's at. The gun blasts, and your race begins. You jump in at full speed, and just before you step on the bridge to leave Staten Island, a voice transcends the crowd of spectators. I'll catch you at the finish, it calls. I'll catch you at the finish. What if we come back? You only get one life. Stepping off the Verrazano Narrows, you see the neighborhoods that time forgot, and as you clamor to get ahead, you consider the occupants.

You shiver when you feel them running beside you, even though they crossed the finish line years ago. They're only privy to the first few miles of your race, but theirs are the memories to preserve for when your course thins out. You run freely because of their sacrifice. You want to revisit their touch, their smell, but of course, your time with them has gone as quickly as it came. I saw the doctor today. He said it metastasized, and there's nothing they can do. It's just a matter of time. I don't want anything to change. I just want to stay here with you, and I want you to stay here with me forever and ever.

[3:53] François Clemmons: Caution, construction zone. There are bumps on the road ahead, your muscle cramps, growing pain. Your muscle cramps, growing pain. You bounce along from group to group, trying desperately to discover yourself, both in and outside the pack. If you ever make it out of this borough, who will you be on your own? What will become of your next leg of life? I'm leaving, B. Whether the conservatory accepts me or not, I'm leaving the city. The competition is tough out there. Demopolis will keep us safe. The Bronx. You're on your own now. You set your own pace, however fast or slow you choose. Even if it feels like you're running in circles, you're the decider now. You make your own rules. And isn't freedom good for something?

But the race can get lonely without another person to share it with, in good times and in bad. Maybe people aren't meant to be married, Mrs. Truitt. Why would anyone put someone they love through that much pain? Young man, sounds like a question only the good Lord can answer. And even though your race is honest, and even though your race is pure, you're still thousands upon thousands of runners away from the finish. What will your legacy be? Who will care that you even bothered to run?

[5:32] François Clemmons: I want to see the dinosaurs. Ours aren't perfect, you know. We're not trained to coddle, we're trained to protect. You wish you had more time, but you're about to cross the Harlem River and into the final stage. Fatigue breaks you in Manhattan. Your legs are jelly. Your mind plays tricks. You walked out on me when I needed you. You used me. Get out of your head. There is no such thing as closure. Did eternity come and go so quickly, you wonder? The clock is running out. This is the final stretch. And somewhere along Fifth Avenue, en route to the finish, you slow to a jog, and your jog slows to a walk. Who did you think you were anyway? To try and run a marathon? Your feet are cement. Your soul is lead. You wish you had never done this. You're almost out of time. And then, you remember, it's how you run that matters, not when you finish.

[6:41] François Clemmons: And your walk becomes a trot. Your trot becomes a jog. And the spectators begin to cheer. They applaud your resilience, and they applaud your race. Mile 22. Mile 23. You turn into the park for the final push, and there, you see them, just as you round the corner, and enter your last mile. The people you love, who love you more precious and more beautiful than ever. Your soul is nourished, and your heart is full. We'll catch you at the finish, they call. We'll catch you at the finish.

[7:43] François Clemmons: Michael, on the Boulder Shore. Amen.

[7:49] François Clemmons: Alleluia.

[8:19] François Clemmons: Alleluia.