Kara Goucher, my wife, stood on the starting line shaking out her arms, anxiously awaiting the gun. Only 191 women and 26.2 miles stood between her and the Olympic Games. I knew from experience what she was feeling. If you are a runner or have ever been in a big race, you know what she was feeling as well. You know what it is like to be nervous in the weeks and days leading up to a big race. You know what it feels like as the butterflies multiply every time you visualize your goals and strategy. When it is finally time to stand on the line, the last few minutes can feel like hours.

The gun finally signaled the start of the race. I watch Kara carefully use her arms to keep clear of other runners and place herself at the front of the pack. She was on her way. Her pre-race nerves were gone but mine remained. In that sense, runners are the lucky ones. The people who really have to suffer are the coaches, the parents and the spouses. Our nerves do not go away when the race begins. Our nerves persist every step of the race causing a completely different type of agony than what the runners are experiencing.

Perhaps it is because we have stood witness to the preparation for his moment for the weeks, months, and even years leading up to a race. This race is only a snapshot representing a much larger body of work. We have watched as the runners in our lives have battled through injury, sickness, doubts, good workouts and bad. We know just how desperately they want it and just how much they have already suffered and sacrificed to get to this line.

Fifteen miles into the race the lead pack had thinned to four women: Desiree Davila, Shalane Flanagan, Amy Hastings and Kara. Three of these women would stamp their ticket to London. It seemed so unfair that one of them would not make the team. I was a wreck as I reflected on how hard all of these women had trained and how badly each of them wanted a spot.

Just over a year ago Kara gave birth to our son, Colt. She rushed back to compete in the Boston Marathon just six months after Colt was born. Although she finished fifth in a personal best time of 2:24:52, this race did not boost her confidence. Instead she worried she would never be the same. Kara then set her sights on qualifying and running the Track and Field World Championships. She earned her spot despite hobbling on a bad hip and after the World Championships she was forced to take five weeks off from running. If this were not trying enough, she also made an incredibly difficult decision to change coaches. Three months before the Olympic Trials she was starting a new training program and was terribly out of shape from her injury. I reflected on all that she had been through in the past year to get to this place, 11 miles from the finish line with a chance to make her second Olympic team.

No matter what distances you like to run, you know that the number of steps you take in the actual race are nothing compared to the amount of steps you took getting ready. Marathoners train hundreds of miles for each mile in a race. Those are the important miles. They are the miles that make your race possible. But it is not only the miles. It is the workouts where you feel invincible as well as the workouts that humble you and make you question your stamina. It is the injuries and other setbacks you had to fight through just to get to that line. All of those things are with you on race day. You carry all of it, for better or worse, every step of the way.

Kara was carrying a lot of better and worse heading into the final ten miles. I just hoped it would be enough.

I sped from one vantage point to the next on my elliptigo to catch glimpses of Kara. I saw the pack dwindle from eight to four and eventually three. Even when it looked like she would make the team, my nerves still would not leave me. I knew anything could happen. I have seen it before when a body pushed too hard shuts down and refuses to cooperate. Kara needed to hold on.

It is the same for runners at every level. For a high school runner trying to get a new PR, or a 58-year-old road racer trying to place in her age group, all the way to the world class athletes going for Olympic berths and medals. Sometimes in the final stages of a race we just need to hold on. We need to maintain our pace and not allow ourselves to slow. We have to push back doubts, ignore pain and persevere. I would have given anything in those moments to be running next to my wife encouraging her, but she had to finish this race alone.

I think I finally relaxed with about two and a half miles to go. I could see in Kara’s stride that she was strong enough to make it to the end. My nerves were replaced by intense pride. She did it. She managed to navigate 26.2 miles fast enough to give herself a place on the line in London. When I was finally able to get to her, I wrapped my arms around her and whispered, “You’re amazing.” I handed Colt to her as her already teary eyes continued to release her elation. All the miles, all the setbacks, all the sacrifices had paid off. She was again an Olympian.

Most runners will never get the chance to represent their country in the Olympics. Most run for different reasons. But the beauty of this sport is that running is essentially the same for runners of every gender, age, and speed. Each of us is chasing very specific dreams and pushing our personal limits. Runners have a common bond and connection that is indescribable. As we say in our book Running the Edge:

"The unspoken and shared understanding of what it means to be a runner can be seen in the kinship between runners. When 40,000 people line up to run the Chicago Marathon, or when 130 line up at a high school cross-country race, they can look each other in the eye with a certain respect, awareness, and comprehension that is prohibitively elusive for the non-runner. Before, during, and after the race, the fellowship between runners is tangible and real. The brotherhood and sisterhood of the running community can be felt in the air as they inhale a collective like-mindedness. To be a runner in the midst of other runners just before the start of a race is a mystical experience that can no more be captured in words than can the color blue."

One thing that has become increasingly clear to me over the past few years is that although each runner is incredibly unique, we are all the same. No matter the level, we are family. It is why we can get just as excited when a runner qualifies for Boston or breaks seven minutes in the mile for the first time as we can when an elite runner makes an Olympic team. This past weekend. Meb Keflezighi, Ryan Hall, Abdi Abdirahman, Shalane, Desi, and Kara all earned the chance to represent the United States in London. But as runners we know they are also representing each of us who share these roads with them. Because they are just like us. Because we understand what it takes to reach our maximum potentials. Because we are all part of the running family.

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Dyestat extends its congratulations to all of the participants in the 2012 Olympic Trials marathon and offers good luck wishes to the members of the U.S. team. Tim Catalano and Adam Goucher are the authors of "Running the Edge." They can also be found at their website and would appreciate some new followers at facebook.com/runtheedge.