If there is one universal fact in life, it must be that no one can escape being challenged in life. Whether large or small, monumental or insignificant, we all face an obstacle or two in life. And then there are those challenges that we take on willingly and voluntarily. No one pinned me against a wall and said, “You must run back-to-back marathons.” In fact, according to the number of articles provided to me by the Great and Wise Google Search Engine, it is not an entirely smart idea if you are not an elite athlete.

And I am elite at few things. Actually, I am elite at nothing. But my competitive (or stubborn depending upon your point of view) nature tends to get the better of me. So, after running the Providence Marathon, I was scheduled to run the Delaware Marathon on Mother’s Day. Thrilled. Excited. Positively joyful. Nope, none of the above. Frankly, I was scared out of my dimwits. But I was more scared of failing to at least meet the challenge.

I arrived in Wilmington on Saturday afternoon just before the skies opened up. Upon arriving at the hotel I checked in and inquired about the closest Catholic Church so I could attend Saturday evening Mass. I asked for the concierge to call a cab. Both I and my wallet were delighted to learn that the hotel shuttle could take me to and from Mass. As usual, the pews were filled with members of the Blue Plate (and hair) Club. The Church also was filled with flowers to honor and celebrate Mother’s Day and special intentions were offered for all mothers, alive and dead.

Thankfully I get to celebrate, rather than honor, my mom on Mother’s Day. While virtually everyone seems or professes via social media to have “the best mother in the world,” I do not.

Now, before you think I am unappreciative or do not love my mother, let me clarify. She is not perfect. But life is not perfect. My mom grew up in a small town with dreams of moving to larger pastures. For her those larger pastures were found on the campus of Marymount University in New York, where she would be swept off her feet by my father. Life was good and got even better when my father was relocated to London and shortly thereafter she gave birth to a healthy son.

But life is not perfect. Her second pregnancy — another son — ended with a miscarriage. And then I was born, which could be seen as a blessing or a curse. For the next two years, my parents enjoyed a good life living, entertaining and relishing the life of Americans abroad. Proof that God indeed has a sense of humor, my father was relocated again – to Cincinnati. Not quite the Big City.

The biggest challenge would come when my father died and mom had to shoulder raising two children on her own. Unlike my marathon challenge, this was one which she did not choose. It was, however, one which she chose to take on. It is said there is no guidebook to parenting and there certainly is no guidebook to single parenting.

Mom took to her new role with a full spirit and an even fuller heart. But, like any parent, she made mistakes, she slipped, and she fell. She was and is not perfect. And that is why I say she is not the best mother in the world. Honestly, I don’t think anyone can be.

She was perhaps the best mother for me because she taught me to be independent and independent-thinking. She showed me how to have an opinion and to give voice to my principles. Stubbornness likely was a genetic trait I inherited from my father, which is why I fight so passionately for those principles. And she got up every day and embraced each day good or bad.

And that is what I did last Sunday. I got up at the crack of dawn to meet the challenge that 26.2 miles poses. And I did not quit – although I did consider it on several occasions during the race. It was a beautiful course and a beautiful day. The course was lined with energetic volunteers who encouraged the runners to take one more step and one more step. To my surprise I finished the race with juice left in my legs and under the four-hour mark.

Delaware reminded me of the most important lesson my mother taught me – that the greatest failure is to give up. Life presents challenges big and small and it is in each of us to choose whether to fight or take flight. I choose to fight.