Today is 30 days to the Boston Marathon.
The home stretch of training.
What that means statistically is that there’s one more 20 miler in my future (next weekend) and then the period known with equal parts fear and delight as “the taper.”
What that also means is that I’m 30 days closer to being back in Hopkinton, hanging out with some amazing charity teammates (I run for Rett Syndrome) and waiting to toe that magic yellow line with the unicorn on it with equal parts fear and delight.
It’s been almost a year since tragic events prevented me from making it to the finish line. Where months of training and the race of a lifetime ended abruptly – at Mass Avenue. Less than a mile from that second magic yellow line with the unicorn on it.
And the agony and confusion are still there. They pop up in random moments, brought on by a news story, or someone in a marathon tee, or just in those quiet moments of a long run.
I’ve been by that finish line several times in the past year. And every time I see it – it hits me. I continue to visit it, hoping it will make it a little easier each time.
Now that I’m in the home stretch, I know I’m physically ready. But am I emotionally ready? Only 30 days left to find out.
Monday would have been my next visit to the finish line. But it’s gone now. They are repaving Boylston street. And soon they will paint the new line. And I wonder, the first time I see it will it feel fresh and full of hope?
I don’t know – but I know, that in 30 days when I turn the corner from Hereford and see that line I am going to sprint full out (probably crying the whole way) to greet it with open arms and a smile.
Because this year, I will cross it.