So, one month ago, I ran the worst, yet best race of my life. The slowest of my 3 marathons by 25 minutes. The worst I have EVER felt during any race. A race I don’t think I would have finished if it wasn’t Boston. At the same time, a race that was one of the most awesome things I have ever gotten to do. While it is still to be determined on whether or not I will ever run Boston again, even if I do; I know it will not mean as much to me as this year’s Boston did (bad race and all).

I am not a natural runner. I am short with the opposite of long, lean muscles. I would have never used the word athletic to describe myself (and still don’t)…I am more fit as a result of being really active (which is a result of not being able to sit still and needing a bit of zen in my life). I ran my first 5K seven years ago. I think I placed for my age group. After being miserably bad at every sport I ever attempted to play growing up (and where my lack of height got in the way), I found something I wasn’t half bad at. I then proceeded to sign up for 1-2 races a year….either ½ marathons or 10 mile races. I continued to get faster with each race. I found running to be a source of healing, inspiration, gratitude, energy, and resolve. It was time spent socializing with friends. It was my time to overanalyze and find balance. I loved running and when asked about running a marathon, I told people I had no interest-I didn’t want to end up hating something I had grew to love.

Needless to say-I eventually got talked into running Grandma’s in 2012 by a good friend of mine at a time when I absolutely needed it. There was a lot of resolve, determination, and purpose behind that Grandma’s race, and is a race I will never forget with dear friends. I ran that race with the intention of crossing “running a marathon” off of my bucket list. I finished 53 seconds short of the Boston qualifying time and learned that I had a “weak left ass cheek” (or a left glute that wouldn’t fire for those technical folks). I would have never imagined I would have gotten that close on my first marathon, so of course I would have to run another one.

I took a break from running for a while to regroup and get my butt right. I eventually decided to sign up for the Sioux Falls marathon in my hometown on the very last weekend I could qualify for Boston 2014. My first marathon-I trained with my friends. This one-I signed up knowing I would have to train alone. I wanted to prove I could do it…and for the record-I will never train alone again. I learned that…aside from calming the crazy, the social aspect of MY running is one of the reasons I love it as much as I do. Sioux Falls was another race I will never forget-I won my age group and peed my pants while running. I had officially made it as a marathoner (and for the record…I don’t want to be an official marathoner ever again).

I stood at the starting line at the Boston Marathon and listened to the gun go off. I realized how different this was from my other marathons that I ran with such resolve and purpose….I stood there and tried to remember a time when I had felt this absolutely happy. I stood at the start line filled with love, happiness, pride, gratitude, and absolute fulfillment. There was no other place I was supposed to be on that day and there is not one thing I would change about how I got there.

Now-I then proceeded to run of my worst races time wise. I can chalk it up to whole slew of things like many marathoners do that analyze and overanalyze their races like myself. But none of it really mattered-I loved every minute of that incredibly difficult race. All 1.7 million spectators that came out (whom at least half of them yelled-Go Minnesota…closet Gopher fans everywhere, I swear). A heartbroken, yet inspired city that LOVED this race and triumphed in showcasing their strength showing up 10+ deep in most places. Inspiration like I have never felt-running past amputees, service men/women and Dick Hoyt running his last race. All the high fives. The tunnel of screams. My family at mile 20. A proud, loud Boylston Street. Running directly behind the people who carried the man across the finish line. My dad excited to show me his picture of Meb.  FOUR hours of taking it all in.

I said before Boston, that I was retiring from marathon running once Boston was over. While running brings me SO much, training for a marathon requires a great deal of sacrifice and takes a toll on the old body. But there is a big part of me that wants to go back and run Boston well and I know I can. There is then the other big part of me that wants to wait a while and go back when it holds as much meaning, like when one of my close friends gets to run it for the first time. Time will tell I guess 🙂 I have a feeling these lovely ladies whom I became good friends with while training will convince me to run another race or two 🙂