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We must be vigilant
about temptation.
I just wanted to ask you a question...
since you're the closest one to God
I know around here.
You have my undivided attention.
Father Hibbert told us
that it would take a miracle...
for anyone from the cross-country team
to win the Boston Marathon.
Father Hibbert
would probably know.
Well, my mom needs a miracle
to get out of her coma.
Me winning the Boston Marathon
could be that miracle.
God told me.
God told you?
Today at gym,
when I fell off the ropes.
Did he tell you how to do it?
No. That's why I need your help...
especially with the purity part...
and prayer probably.
I believe that what you're talking about
could be bordering on blasphemy...
even if it is unintentional...
so let's be careful.
God did not ask you...
to win Boston
to get your mother out of a coma.
It doesn't work like that.
- How does it work?
- Why would he ask you?
Well, I don't know.
He just did.
Precisely. You don't know.
It wasn't God.
It was the bump on your head... -
a hallucination at best.
Father, I don't mean
to be disrespectful, but... -
Mr. Walker, trust me. You are not
going to perform any miracles.
You're not running Boston.
Is that clear?
Yes, Father.
Father, forgive me,
for I have lied...
to a priest.
How far have we run, Father?
- One mile.
- That's it?
- Turn back if you want to.
- I can't.
All right, stop.
I heard you talked
to Father Fitzpatrick.
Yes, Father.
Let's get something straight
right here and now, all right?
So there's absolutely no confusion.
Forget about miracles, please.
I would've thought you
of all people... - a priest... -
would believe in miracles.
I'm trying to help you, Ralph.
Father Fitzpatrick is upper clergy,
monsignor material.
Not a man you want
to go up against.
Your friend Nietzsche wrote,
and I quote...
I'm trying to be both.
That's not what Nietzsche meant.
I don't care.
Okay, so the cosmic events
stacked up...
and I was still unsure about it
until my conversation with God.
Unfortunately, you'll still be in a coma
for a few months...
because Boston's not until April...
but that's better
than the rest of your life.
Excuse me for a second, Mom.
What's wrong with your grandmother?
She's not my grandmother.
This is Mrs. Scarlet.
She's a patient here.
I volunteer at the hospital.
Mrs. Scarlet,
Ralph Walker.
Can I talk to you for a second?
I need some advice on religion...
specifically stuff
of a miraculous nature.
Miracles? Why?
So tell me again.
What did God look like?
- Santa Claus.
- Really?
I've been praying since I was five
for a divine tap on the shoulder.
I envy you.
So what's your question?
I just want to make sure
I'm not missing anything.
I do those three things...
and all I have to do
is show up for Boston and I'll win?
Wrong. That's where
the faith part comes in.
You have to believe
that you're gonna win Boston.
I do. God told me.
Do you believe it
right down to your bones?
Just as I suspected.
You see, God won't be in your corner
unless you believe you're gonna win.
There's no way I'll be able
to improve that much.
Well, if you feel that way, Ralph,
of course you won't win.
It's obvious you don't have faith,
and you're done before you started.
Don't you see?
Good point, Collins.
You got me there.
- You'll be in my prayers every night.
- I will?
If I can in any way help
with a miracle...
I might be able to skip purgatory
Chester, pedal harder.
Isn't the idea you run faster?
Listen, I'm doing the best I can...
but I've gotta train my legs
to accept speed...
so give it all you've got.
You're slowing down.
Come on, Ralph!
Chester, stop!
Goddamn it!
Oh, shit.
Sorry. Are you all right?
I don't mean to sound like a know-it-all,
but what are you doing?
There's no way you're gonna finish Boston.
Never mind winning it.
On top of that,
there's the Fitz factor.

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