Almost a Year Later, I Have Feelings

It's been nearly one full year since I ran the Boston Marathon. I finished the race and immediately thought "NEVER AGAIN." Not a "never" to the marathon as a race distance, but to Boston. Never. Again.

Granted, the weather in 2015 was hideous: rain, wind, rain, 40 degrees, rain following the runners, wind. Oh, and cold rain. In fact, after the race my husband asked me if it had rained the whole time because, well, where he and the kids were in Boston, it had only started to rain about 20 minutes before I saw them. Oh, bless your heart, dear husband, but no. The rain started at mile 3 and, hardy har, the front moved towards Boston basically along the race route. With the runners. Into the headwinds which--and I'm not meteorologist--I have no idea how that happens.

But it wasn't just the weather that left a bad taste in my mouth. In the weeks leading up to the race--hell, the years I'd imagined actually running Boston--all anyone could talk about was how AMAZING the experience would be, how LOUD the crowds would be, how FRIGGIN MAGICAL the entire race from Hopkinton to Boston would be. And I felt, really, none of that. Again, maybe it was due to the weather, but until we got about halfway through, the crowds were pretty thin. I was glad to have music to keep me, uh, focused. Maybe it was because by the time I actually got to race day I was so burned out from training and a 3-day-a-week CrossFit habit that I was too tired to buy into the hype. Maybe I was hangry the whole way. Maybe the refugee camp Athletes' Village was more intense than I'd planned; bodies strewn and huddled together over the entire surface area of grass covered by a circus tent. Maybe, surrounded by runners much, much faster than me, I let that imposter syndrome sink too far in; I never believed I belonged on that starting line.

Whatever the reason, I was almost as disappointed in how UNmagical I felt in the race as I was in my crapola performance. My husband cleaned the bathtub of our rented apartment so I could sit in a hot eighteen inches of water while my stomach slowly unclenched. He brought me a Coke to sip, a soft drink which I actually DID come to believe held magical powers. And I swore I would NEVER RUN BOSTON AGAIN.

But, uh. Well. You know how when you have a baby and it's so god-awfully painful and uncomfortable and undignified and you SWEAR you'll never have another baby and then, haha, that baby smell intoxicates your brain and suddenly you're flushing your birth control down the toilet? So many of my Oiselle teammates and other friends happen to be running this year. After an atypically mild winter of training. They're excited and hyped and ready to go and where the hell is all this FOMO coming from? Remember: I'M NEVER EVEN GOING TO ATTEMPT TO RUN BOSTON AGAIN.

Or, wellllllll, maybe if I happen to requalify someday and the next time I could run it I'll be over 40 so there's 5 more minutes on my qualifying time and maybe it actually wasn't as horrible as I'm remembering and the weekend was really fun and Boston's such a cool city and only a 6 hour drive away and--

Wait.
Breathe.

Boston Marathon weekend is amazing. The entire city sizzles with endophins and nervous energy and anticipation. Bostonians and their thousands of college student residents go bananas for the race. Walking around the city in your freshly-earned jacket makes you feel like a total rock star. There's a camaraderie that's earned the second you spot someone at the highway rest stop or in the airport wearing their unicorn medal or garishly-colored adidas jacket.


Ah, who knows. I worked my butt off once to qualify, and maybe that was enough. I ran it. I did not do well (for my own self) but I will admit that the finish down Boylston Street ranks up there with the top race experiences of my life. So maybe that's the draw, huh? Same as when that baby finally comes out, and the pain is gone, and what you have left is the satisfaction after going through the impossible, the promise of a life ahead; a joyful, grateful life after all. It was worth it, it's incredible. Maybe just one more time to experience that joy, that feeling of being part of a much, much bigger whole.

But first, just like post-baby, give me a shower, a beer,  and lots of snacks.