It seems fitting that my first post would come directly after the Boston Marathon. I am sitting here with sore legs and my finishers shirt- and really want to go back over the entire weekend and revel in it. It was an amazing experience, but I want to say this upfront: I had a very disappointing marathon; it wasn’t the time or race I had trained for. However, after some sulking (ok, a lot) and some tears, I realize that the sum of the weekend totally outweighed the time on the clock.
I am lucky. I am lucky to have qualified for this prestigious race. I am lucky that my body allows me to train at a high level. I am lucky that I have such supportive and talented friends. All of these things contributed to the success of the weekend. We went there to run; to spend between 2.75 and 3.5 hours throwing ourselves toward Boylston Street. What we wound up doing was laughing a lot (aside from the actual run). I didn’t realize how funny we are- each of us in different ways. It was fun. I was nervous, I was anxious, but I was surrounded by people who understood, who were in the same position, who were willing to talk out every detail leading up to the race. We focused each other, distracted each other, motivated, listened, argued, pushed.
We were all upset with how the race went. It was too hot, too sunny, our bodies couldn’t take it. We all died slow and painful deaths. There are pictures to prove it- I’ve cringed at them already. But after the race, sitting on the grass, we didn’t even need to say anything. It was a shared understanding of what we had all just suffered through. And that silent communication was a byproduct of the bond that had formed. Training partners, teammates, friends, competitors- whatever we are, I have no doubt we will be saying things like ‘remember that time in Boston…’ for a long time.