A Great Time

Life has been happening at an astounding pace.  Nothing overly important, just life being what it is.  Laundry and groceries and tidying the house and playing princess and dinner with friends and everything else.

Sunday I ran my third race: the Port to Fort 6k.  It was my longest race (and nearly my longest ever run, ever, in my life), and a fabulous time.  I mean that in two ways - I had a blast running it, and I ran it really fast!

33:50 for 3.75 miles.

I was satisfied at the first mile when they called out 10:02 - I adjusted for the time it took to get over the start, and knew I was under a 10 minute mile; right on pace and I felt great.  I was slightly surprised at the 2 mile mark when I heard 19:12.  I still felt great - and the route was gorgeous.  I was astounded at the 3 mile mark, when I was hoping to be under 30 minutes... I thought I was hearing 29 over and over... when I really crossed the 3 mile mark at 28 minutes even!  So when I finished the race five minutes later, with a great kick, and still a little to spare, I was amazed at how well I had done, and so very proud of myself.

And also sad and lonely.  Because this race, as fun as it was to run, was one I drove myself to, waited by myself to start, and had no one to greet me at the finish.  I signed up for it with no expectations of running with a friend.  And it was really lonely.  I basically crossed the finish, texted everyone my fabulous splits, ate a banana... and wandered back to my car.  I was home and showered by 9:30 am.

I don't have any more races lined up.  I'm looking for another - it's just more fun running before work when I'm training for something.  And the races themselves give me such a feeling of pride.  But I do not want to run another race alone.  I felt so lonely watching everyone else mingle and laugh and cheer - I want that feeling, too!

Best Wishes: Update

Way back in August, I wrote about my brother-in-law's engagement.  At the time, I was reeling with how soon he proposed after meeting his future wife.  Fast forward a few months - they were married this weekend.  A beautiful wedding, filled with so much love.  I couldn't be happier for my brother-in-law and new sister-in-law.

For truly, she already is such a part of our family.  She has completely embraced all of us, and there are many of us to embrace.  I return her embrace whole-heartedly.



(And for the record, I absolutely loved how I looked on Saturday!  I felt so confident in my slinky sequined dress, with the hot pink heels.  My make-up was exactly how I wanted to look, and even my hair cooperated.  Confidence is fabulous!)

More On Boston and Running

I tend to close myself off from tragedy.  It makes me seem (and often feel) a bit cold and unfeeling, but it's only because if I allow myself to become involved I feel too much.  I dissolve into a lump of sadness, and I can't move on.  I need distance from tragedy to hold myself together.

I haven't been able to close myself off from Monday.  My brother was there.  My brother is safe, but what if?  What if the explosions had been earlier?  What if my brother had run slower?  What if my older brother had been able to meet him at the finish (as originally planned), and they had stayed to watch?

So I'm searching for the news and updates and articles that I usually try to avoid.  And I'm feeling pretty fragile.  It's heartwrenching to read about the victims, but there have been a few things I've read in all of this that I wouldn't have read in a more closed-off state.  Lovely articles that made me cry, but also resonated in my fragile heart. 

The People Who Watch Marathons had me sobbing on the train this morning.  I have been the one cheering in the crowd at so many races for so many years.  Yelling and screaming for my brother, as I watched his high school and college meets.  Jumping up and down like a maniac as he ran past me for a few fleeting seconds. 

And I know it doesn't qualify me as an expert, but I have now run in two races of my own.  And even though they weren't very long races, I was so touched at each by the crowds of strangers along the streets, holding up signs for ME.  Jumping up and down for ME.  Cheering... for me.  It was so different - and exhilerating! - being on the other side of the race.  

So I'm stuck.  Feeling too much.  Feeling too fragile.  Feeling stuck and weepy and unable to concentrate.

But also wondering when I can run another race again.  So when my dad emailed me about the Port to Fort 6k in Baltimore, which already supports a cause dear to my heart, and how they have created the team "Run For Boston," I knew I had found my race. 

Now all I need is "permission" from Nate to sign up - I'll need his babysitting services!

Cause Boston, you're my home

I grew up in a town just west of Boston, where Patriot's Day meant two things: spring break, and the Boston Marathon.  My father ran the marathon several years ago now, though it feels like his run was last year.  He trained for months, losing 50 pounds along the way. 

My younger brother ran it yesterday.  Yesterday, while I was reveling in my 5k success, my brother had just finished a 26.2 mile run through the suburbs of Boston. 

In my post yesterday, I meant to write about how I was sitting at work, nearly biting my nails with nerves, watching the live coverage of the marathon online, hoping for some little glimpse of my brother in the crowds.  He was near the front with a very low bib number, so I thought just maybe he'd run past a camera at the start and I'd see him.

I was on edge all morning watching the race, waiting for the text messages to tell me his splits.  He finished at 12:47, with a race time of 2:46:53.  Twenty-six point two miles, averaging 6:21 minute miles.  Amazing.

And as soon as I received that text, my heart began to feel lighter and I was able to relax a little.  He shortly thereafter sent a text "Call me Elvis cuz I'm still alive."  He was making jokes!  Cheerful!  So I knew he was in good spirits, and happy with his race.

And even more thankfully - he finished so early, he was already boarding a train out of the city when the bombs went off.  He was safe, and heading home, far from the fray of the explosions.  He texted everyone immediately that he was fine.

My brother is safe.

My heart goes out to every Bostonian today, to all the runners, all the race organizers and volunteers, and to all the spectators at the race.  My prayers are with the victims and their families.  I am beyond thankful that my brother is safe, that all my friends and family from the city are safe.

I don't live in Boston anymore, nor do I have plans to move there in the future.  But Boston is my home.  It's part of me.  You can take the girl out of Boston, but you can never take the Boston out of the girl.  Love that dirty water.