Back in the spring, not long after the Boston Marathon, I found myself scrolling through the Boston Athletic Association’s charity listings. I clicked through page after page of logos until one stopped me: the Make-A-Wish Foundation, Massachusetts and Rhode Island Chapter.
Their mission tugged at me. During my early nursing years — first in the pediatric ICU, later in home health — I saw how serious illness affects children and families. I sent an email asking to be added to their interest list, thinking maybe I’d try for a charity bib for Boston.
A few months later, I got an email inviting me to apply for the Make-A-Wish Boston Marathon team. It wasn’t a guaranteed spot, just a waitlist — but it gave me a spark of motivation. I started running more consistently, just in case.
Then summer rolled on, and something shifted. My youngest son, Ryan, started talking about running a marathon — Napa Valley, March 2026. The idea of training alongside him, sharing that experience after all these years, just felt right.
Now that it’s past September 29th, it’s clear I won’t be running Boston through Make-A-Wish. And honestly, I’m okay with that. The more I think about it, the more I realize I’d rather run Napa. It’s closer to home, closer to family, and closer to the heart of why I run in the first place.
Ryan’s enthusiasm has rubbed off on me, and the thought of crossing another finish line — my twentieth marathon — feels possible again. Still, I know myself: if I linger too long in the what-if zone, I’ll never get there.
Registration for Napa goes up tonight, and I keep hovering over the button. Part of me hesitates, wondering if I’m ready. Another part knows that the only way to find out is to sign up and start showing up.
Maybe that’s what this next chapter is about — not waiting to be chosen, but choosing myself.