The number of days ‘till Boston is dwindling down to nothing and I’m beginning to feel a level of nervousness like none other. If you’ve been around me before a marathon, you know that this is saying a lot. I tend to be an emotional bundle of nervous in need of much reassurance – mostly on my part.
In the days before Portland, I cried hard and often. I found doubt in my ability to push past the pain and go the distance. Fortunate for me, I was surrounded by a few great people who loved me unconditionally but still urged me to believe that I was capable of more than I’d ever been able to deliver. And we all know how well it all turned out.
It feels odd to be entering the biggest race of my life with no time goal what-so-ever. Although at one point, I did entertain “racing” in Boston, I have since decided to adhere to my original plan of just taking it in:
· high-fiving the kids,
· taking in the crowds,
· kissing a girl from Wellesley College just so I can sing the song,
· stopping to give YaYa a sweaty hug of appreciation for years of support,
· experiencing the deafening roar of the crowd in the final stretch towards the finish,
· and finally experience firsthand the glory of the Boston Finish-line.