Three more runs.
I’ve only got three more runs.
A grand total of seven miles.
I only have five days and seven miles until I run 26.2.
This just doesn’t seem real.
Seven more miles feels like nothing compared to what I’ve been doing. My legs are quieter with less miles to run but the thoughts in my brain are so much louder. Questioning everything, going over my training, worrying about aches and pains. All I have left to do is run 7 more miles, pick up my bib and the usual pre-race rituals: a trip to the nail salon, a vanilla ice cream with rainbow sprinkles, have my hair french braided. And then it’s go time. One of my favorite tidbits of advice I’ve received (and one that is the most comforting) is that Marathon Monday is just a big celebration – all the hard work was done during the last four cold, snowy months. I keep trying to remind myself that.
I’ve said it several times before, but it takes a village to raise a marathoner – and I could not have made it to these last 5 days without it. But my village is actually more of a bustling metropolis so feel free to grab a fresh cup of coffee and sit back because this might take a while. And there’s a good chance your name is probably somewhere in this blog post.
First of all, I have to thank the countless friends, family, and complete strangers who have helped me raise over $5,000 for Back on My Feet Boston. You ate pizza, you purchased new running shoes and sports bras, you bought raffle tickets from an adorable 7 year old practicing his math skills. Every email that notified me of a new donation came with a message “We believe in you. You’ve got this. I’m so proud of you”. They reminded me that you trust that I can do this, you believe in me. And that means the world to me. (PS it’s not too late to help! To make a donation click here.)
The coolest Chiropractor around, Dr. B. His first words to me during my consultation were “So Beantown’s the goal huh? Let’s make that happen.” and he made it happen. From waiting to close the office during a snowstorm to fit me in, to fist pumping me after every new distance ran, he has been one of my biggest cheerleaders (Even if he does it with his weapon of choice in the other hand).
My other set of parents, “my Goldens” – who are as proud of me as if I were one of theirs, who were waiting anxiously for the text that I finished my first 20 miler, who have been cheering in my corner since the very beginning of my journey. As much as I have loved being the ultimate spectators with you – you have no idea how excited I am to be on the other side of Mr. Smiley Face Balloon guy.
My friends and family who ask how my training is going (even though they could probably care less), who understood why I vanished the entire winter, and who are just so excited to cheer me on on the road from Hopkinton to Boylston – thank you for supporting me through this crazy process.
My crazy co-workers – because if you are going to train for a marathon, this is the place to work while doing it. From understanding why I was overwhelmed by 8 feet of snow, to building me the most beautiful neon countdown paper chain, to keeping me “grounded” – you get it.
My cousin Julie, who right now is doing something even MORE amazing by growing a human life inside of her, and yet still thinks to ask how my long runs go, to cheer me on, to tell me I can do it. Before the Marathon jackets even had time to cool she (and her mother-in-law) had one delivered to my office to make sure that I “looked the part”.
The L Street Running Club – who I could not have made it through all those miserable winter long runs without. From the speedsters who high fived me on their way back, to the incredible water stop volunteers who were always so kind and enthusiastic – your “no pace too slow” motto has made a difference in this slow poke first timer’s life. And especially my “running big brother” whose words of wisdom always come at just the right time.
My mom and dad- I’m pretty sure I saw their jaws hit the floor when I first mentioned that I wanted to run the Boston Marathon. And once they picked them back up, man they are the greatest cheer squad ever. I mean, whose mother orders 2 giant balloons online… just in case one blows away on race day? And whose dad cuts marathon articles out of the paper and mails them to you? As my training runs increased my iPod playlist got longer as well, and I threw on a lot of old songs that remind me of my parents- dancing around the kitchen or singing in the car. When the miles got tough those songs would magically pop on, and I felt their presence with me. For as anyone who was a guest at our wedding can attest, there’s nothing like a little “You Can Call Me Al” to get you moving. 🙂
My incredible husband – who has always been my rock and has proved to be nothing less than amazing during all of this. They say it’s a family commitment when someone decides to train for a marathon and I see why now. He has patiently spent Saturday nights on the couch and Sunday mornings alone waiting for me to come hobbling in the house. He has made sure that my Lush bath bomb stock never dwindles and baked me a cake to celebrate my last 20 miler. He comforts me when runs are tough and every night before we go to bed he tells me how proud he is of me. He is my everything.
And finally Alicia, because when my rockstar husband doesn’t know what to do with me anymore he passes me off to her – and somehow she can fix it. If anyone deserves an extra medal it’s her for all the tears, whining, complaining and second guessing that she has put up with – and is still right by my side. You have taught me that Boston is the epitome of races, and you are the epitome of Boston to me. Never in my life did I dream that I, the chubby rollerblader, would be running the Boston Marathon, but you were the person who saw something inside of me. Although this will technically be our third reunion “on” Boylston Street… something tells me I will never, ever, forget this one.