Boston 2014: Here's my starting line

I was about 2,250 miles and three months away from Boston, on a plane making its final descent into Albuquerque, when I realized I couldn’t put off writing about my marathon any more. The realization hit as I was in the process of shutting off my shuffle and unplugging my headphones. 

My fingers brushed against some unplanned wet on my cheek. I’d been crying. Tears of joy? Sadness? I still haven’t figured it out. In those last few minutes of my six-hour voyage, flying through turquoise sky above the glorious pinks, browns and purples of summer dusk New Mexico, I’d been listening to my personal go get ‘em theme song, Wrecking Ball by Bruce Springsteen, and had been remembering the last beautiful time I’d heard it, back in April on Patriot’s Day, during the last .2 of my 2014 Boston Marathon, the view just as heavenly, the feelings equally momentous.  

I’ve been putting off writing about that day, though I’ve written two pieces about events leading up to it, one about the Friday before and one about going in to pick up my race number. 

I kept telling myself I had plenty of time to write about Boston. Kept reminding myself that if I didn’t write about the day soon, I’d forget.One can become quite passive when one allows oneself to be pulled in such opposing directions. 

Now, as I think back, there’s a lot that's been lost to fogginess. But maybe that’s a good thing. Does anyone really need to know how many Gus I ate that day? (Three, I think.) Or how many minutes I spent in the port-a-potty line at Athlete’s Village? (At least two -- no -- four hours I’m sure, mainly because I have a gift for always picking the longest lines no matter where I go – grocery store, bank, Mass Pike, whatever.) 

Or how many times I remembered to be thankful for the Boston Athletic Association and its premier volunteers, my American Liver Foundation friends and donors, my Run for Research teammates, my mother and father and daughters, my friends? (It’s an infinite amount because the gratitude just keeps coming.) 

The gratitude, like the memories, overwhelms me even now, months later. Thank you thank you thank you!

Let’s call this the starting line. Let's keep moving forward. Ready. Set. Write!