A brief history

My life as a runner began my freshman year in high school. I joined the cross country and track team because my best friend was a member and we could leave school early on Wednesdays. I never ran in any Saturday meets because I was also involved in 4-H and my weekends were filled with horse and lamb shows or rodeos.

And then college began and I didn't find much time for running. Every so often I would run 3 or 4 miles, but I was never dedicated. However, during my last semester in college, I came to Boston to visit my boyfriend. I was going to meet him after work in Copley Square and it just happened to be during the Boston Marathon. I stood and watched the four, five, and six hour marathoners stream by and cross a newly painted thick yellow line. I wanted to run a marathon.

After graduation I moved to Boston and watched the marathon again. Except this time I laced up my shoes and started running that day. I ran around the Charles River and Winter Hill. I ran through the streets of Boston to Brookline. I ran until the next Boston Marathon. Yet again I watched the runners until the sky was dark and my hands stung from clapping. And this time I made up my mind that I really would run a marathon.

A couple of months later, I found a small, flat marathon that promised peak fall foliage along the Merrimack River and I was sold. A year later that same marathon would give me my Boston Qualifying time.

And now seven marathons later and a year and a half break, I'm getting ready to toe the line in five days. The goals are not great--I just want to finish. But I also want to find my love for marathons again.