No One Ever Asked: The Unknown Story

Okay everyone. So I know I've posted about the Boston Marathon a few times but as the second anniversary of the bombings approaches, I have something to say. As time has passed, something has persisted in bothering me. I'm sure it's mostly an oversight. Perhaps it's something no one has even thought about. Anyway, I decided it was time that the perspective of a runner who didn't finish the marathon but was affected by the bombings was finally heard. For those of you who have read my story before, I'm sorry. This time I go more in depth into my story. I discuss my emotions and feelings and the demons I've faced. For those of you who haven't read my story, thanks for stopping by to read it. Feel free to share my blog post or forward it along. Also, feel free to leave any questions or comments. Enjoy!

No One Ever Asked
by Brittney P. Farmer

March 25, 2013. I had no idea at the time that my life would forever be changed on this date. It’s the beginning and I guess I’ll start there. All of my children were in school and my husband, Jeramiah, was still at work. I was shopping at our local Target store when my phone rang. My husband was on the other end. He asked if I was aware of a contest that he had entered. I vaguely remembered seeing something on Facebook about how he had entered a contest to win an entry to the Boston Marathon. I think I may even have given entering it a passing thought. Anyway, my husband was calling to tell me that he had won the entry to the Boston Marathon, the one that was three weeks from that day. I should probably pause here to say that I wanted to run the Boston Marathon. Most runners do. I was even considering finally taking the time to train so that I could qualify to go. Now, here Jeramiah was, telling me he had an entry to go. I was envious. He was going to get to run Boston and I would have to sit and watch, or worse yet, stay home with the kids. Secretly, I hoped he would give me his entry. After all, I had been running for years longer than he had and I was closer to qualifying for Boston than he was. After talking with him, I realized he wasn’t going to give me that entry. We kind of threw around some ideas for how in the world we could throw a trip to Boston together so quickly but never settled on anything before our conversation was over. For those of you that are already siding with me that my husband should give me his entry, here’s what I didn’t know. He tweeted the group that gave him his entry and explained how much I wanted to run the race too. They told him that had an extra entry that they would sell me and tada! I had an entry too.

We immediately went to work finding accommodations and flights to Boston. We were too close to the actual race to find anything in town that we could afford so we ended up in Lexington. It was a little frustrating to be so far outside of the city but Lexington is rich with history and I love history. We caught a red-eye flight to Boston and arrived early Friday morning. We went straight to the expo at the Prudential Center. WOW! There were so many people and so much to see. We were excited about everything, from finding out that Dean Karnazes and Team Hoyt were going to be there to the athlete passports and everything in between. Jeramiah did his research prior to arriving in Boston. The Boston Marathon jacket put out by Addidas is the sought after thing every year. Apparently, if you’ve run Boston before, you come in your previous jacket and leave in your new one. Jeramiah knew that was the souvenir he wanted and it was the first thing we purchased. I debated for several days before deciding that I too wanted the jacket.

We spent the days preceding the marathon being tourists. My sister and her family had lived in Boston for a time so she told us the things we needed to see and do. We really had a wonderful time and enjoyed how the city welcomed every athlete as one of their own and wished us well. We spent the day before the marathon in Lexington enjoying the Patriot Day festivities and drinking the rich history of the American Revolution that began in Lexington.

Monday morning, we got up around 6:00. We had decided to drive to the train and ride that into the city rather than try to find parking in Boston. Our starting time was scheduled for just before noon so we brought breakfast with us instead of eating before we left. It was so cold when we got off the train and waited for the bus! When we left home, it was in the 70s. That morning it was probably in the high 30s. I remember watching the weather forecast for the marathon and people saying that the weather was going to be great for the race. I thought they were crazy and wished it was 20 degrees warmer. The bus ride to Hopkinton lasted forever. They drive you around so that they can keep the course closed to traffic. We got off at the high school and there were so many people. We stood around waiting for our turn to head to the starting line. One last trip to the port-a-johns and we were finally ready. We waved at every camera, smiling and happy to be running one of the most prestigious races in the world. Initially, we were frustrated. We had been corralled with sponsors and charities so we were pacing faster than most of the people we were running with but soon settled into a steady pace and just enjoyed the crowds, the athletes and the shirts.

We had so many people at home supporting us, many of them digitally following us. We were having a great run and then we hit mile 15. Jeramiah is a great runner and he is really strong but, just like most runners, once he gets about 15 miles in, the miles start to wear on him. I’m different. My endurance legs kick in and I feel like I can go forever. At mile 15, I was ready to really start running and Jeramiah started to feel sick. That rarely happens. When he started to drag, for about 3 seconds I considered leaving him and running my own race. But we came to Boston together and we were going to finish together. I started to encourage and ask questions to gauge how bad things were. We stopped at a port-a-john and headed out again. We’d run the hills as best as he could and then we’d walk. Again, I’d encourage and ask more questions. At about mile 23, I remember being a little disappointed at the crowds in Boston. The Red Sox game was over and most of the spectators were fans from the game and most of them were a little drunk. We continued and I could tell Jeramiah wasn’t feeling well. I encouraged him to eat anything we could get our hands on, thinking that he was probably hungry and needed food. Mile 24. Mile 25. We were so close. 1.2 miles to go. Maybe two minutes after mile 25 we heard sirens. I called over my shoulder to Jeramiah that I wasn’t dead yet and they couldn’t have me. We ran maybe another 30 to 60 seconds when we hit a wall of people.

I remember thinking that there was no way the finish line could be backed up this far. This was Boston. Surely they would be better organized than to have that happen. We stopped and I pulled my phone out to call my brother. I was sure he’d know what was going on. I couldn’t get through. Jeramiah pulled his phone out and searched the internet. We were standing close and talking quietly but everyone was so close because there were so many people. Jeramiah told me there were bombs at the finish line. Surely I hadn’t heard him correctly. Bombs? Everyone around us heard that and people started crying. I tried my phone again. I still couldn’t make a call. More emergency vehicles passed us. Jeramiah pulled his phone out again and read that some reporter had tweeted that body parts were visible at the finish line. I was shocked. How could this happen? Why would this happen?

Somehow we were able to contact our family at home and let them know we were okay. Our children had gotten out of school early that day and my sister-in-law said she’d let them watch the marathon. For a few minutes I was afraid that they had been watching and didn’t know we were okay. Fortunately, we told them about the bombing so they learned we were okay at the same time they learned about the bombing. We wouldn’t have service and then we’d get a whole bunch of texts and voice mails. At one point I told Jeramiah to post on Facebook that we were okay so we wouldn’t hold up the line for people who were still looking for their loved ones.

We stood there for so long. The race had started cold but in the middle it had warmed up considerably. The breeze coming off the ocean was cool though as we got into Boston city and now that we were just standing around, people were starting to get cold. I remember thinking that if they didn’t move us soon, we would have emergencies there. The people who lived in the housing around the course were amazing. They came out with pitchers of water and paper cups and offered drinks to the athletes. Others came out and offered clothes. They offered what they had and I was touched by the humanity in such a dark time.

Finally, someone came and told us we had to walk somewhere. I don’t remember where. Someone asked about whether we’d be able to get out drop bags. We were told some would, others not. It depended on which bus they were on. We walked for probably a mile or so. Someone was handing out mylar blankets. I was so grateful. Someone else was handing out the finish line goodie bags. We were so hungry and those bags had food. Jeramiah and I were able to pick up our drop bags. We asked someone if the trains were still running and we were told yes so we headed back to Boston Common to get on a train. When we got there, a transit cop told us that station was closed and we’d have to go to Boston General to get on the train. We didn’t know Boston well and were so tired and it must have shown. I could tell he felt badly to tell us we couldn’t get on there. We walked for what seemed like forever and finally found an open station. I was fumbling in my bag for my train ticket and a gentleman behind me told me he’d get it for me. The trains were so full of people we had to stand but I was grateful to be headed out of the city. Somewhere between where we got on and where we were supposed to get off, in between stations, the train stopped. I just about lost it. We were only stopped for a few minutes but I had already had all I could take for one day. When we finally got to our car and were on the road to Lexington, I finally started to breathe.

We got back to our hotel and opted for dinner in the hotel bar. We ate about 8:00 that night. We turned the television on and it was everywhere, the same footage over and over again. After a while, with tears streaming down my face, I told Jeramiah to turn it off and we went to sleep. Our flight out of Boston was early and we could not have been happier about that. We got to the airport and were shocked by all the extra security. They were stopping and asking everyone about pictures and video that had been taken. They didn’t stop us. I don’t know why. Maybe it was because we had our Boston jackets on. We boarded the plane and both people sitting on either side of me were involved in the marathon. We chatted a little. After a while we settled into our own things. The lady next to me

was reading the Boston Globe. I stole a glance and read the headline. I remember wishing that we had taken the time to buy a newspaper. We landed a while later and caught our connecting flight. We slept. Our last connection was only a short 45 minute flight back into St. George and we had to run to catch it. Somehow the flight attendant knew who we were and welcomed us and said she was glad we were okay. My dad and sister-in-law picked us up at the airport. My dad told me my mom said I was grounded. It is probably the only time in my life I was happy to be grounded.

When our kids got home from school, we were greeted with grateful hugs. I missed them so much. As the day wore on and more and more time was put between us and the marathon, I started to feel heavy. Our son had a scout pack meeting the night we got home. Our neighbors greeted us and asked us about our trip and the marathon. It was starting to get hard to talk about. I just wanted to be home. The next morning I got up, like usual, and went to the gym. I was in a fitness class and had my Boston jacket on. A lady asked me if I was there and I told her yes. She wanted to talk about it. I didn’t. I didn’t want to be rude but I was beginning to realize that, although I had already said that I was so many times, I was not okay. Acknowledging that I wasn’t okay was a turning point for me and I really did start to get better from there.

Occasionally something would happen and a new wave of emotion would hit me. Things like the day Jeramiah was on Facebook looking at posts from the marathon. His aunt had been tracking us and posted our projected finish time from our halfway time. It was projected for when the bombs went off. Gratitude. That was the emotion that just overwhelmed me. Gratitude that Jeramiah wasn’t feeling well and we had to slow down and walk. Gratitude that we even had to stop a few times.

About two weeks after the marathon, Jeramiah and I were out on a weekend run. It was the morning of the St. George Ironman. We ran passed the bleachers that were set up at the finish line and I had a de ja vu moment. The scene was too familiar and reminded me of Boston and I panicked. Even though we never got to the finish line on race day, it still had an effect on me.

Runner’s World released its July issue and the whole thing was devoted to the Boston Marathon. I read every word of that issue and realized I was still recovering. It had been weeks since Boston and I really hadn’t thought too much about it yet here I was reading people’s stories. Stories like mine. Feelings like mine. It was too close for comfort.

I heard the song “Carry On” by Fun no more than two weeks before the marathon. It was new enough that I didn’t know the words yet, just the premise and the “Carry On” part. While we were running the marathon, every time we’d hit a hill, I’d sing that part in my head. Even though they are mostly just rolling hills, I sang that song a lot. “Carry On” became my mantra. I’m a fitness instructor and I teach Spinning and that became my go-to hill song. Running hills outside it was still my hill song. I learned it. I breathed it. I lived it.

Sometime during the summer of 2013, the Boston Athletic Association decided that if you were beyond

a certain point in the marathon by the time the bombs went off, you would have an automatic entry into the 2014 marathon. We signed up in August and started making plans.

Our local university does a film festival every fall. Someone put together a documentary of the Boston marathon and entered it. They talked with local runners about the marathon and people that were going back to run in 2014. They interviewed people along the Wasatch Front that had been there in 2013. To my knowledge, no one that was actually there in 2013 from St. George was actually interviewed about their experience in Boston. I had several people ask me if we were in it though. Interestingly, Jeramiah worked for a local radio station for a while years ago. When they found out he was in Boston, they asked to interview him. He was quoted on the front page of our local newspaper. We wouldn’t have been hard to find. But no one ever asked.

In mid-October I realized I had tendonitis in my foot. I decided to take a break from running. I didn’t heal. In December I had my foot x-rayed to rule out a stress fracture and by late December I opted for a cortisone shot so that I could run again. I didn’t work and even with continued time off my feet, I still didn’t heal. I started physical therapy and it worked a little. I was cleared to run a little, no more than six miles, but spend most of my time on the elliptical training for Boston. The marathon was starring me in the face and I was scared I wouldn’t be ready. Spending hours on an elliptical and then running six miles is less than optimal training.

As the race approached, it became obvious that my training wasn’t my biggest problem. I had literally spent months thinking I was okay. I knew it was going to be hard to go back to Boston but I had no idea how difficult it would be until it was nearly time to leave. I was broken. I was a wreck. I would be at home doing nothing and break into tears. Booking our flights left me with anxiety. I was not okay. Then a few days before we were scheduled to leave, police found an unattended bag on a street near the finish line in Boston and I nearly decided not to go. I knew that the only way to heal was to go back to Boston and finish but I wasn’t sure I could do it without breaking down and being hysterical. I sought some help and drew strength from my faith.

I did board the plane, willingly and without medication. We did go back and it was hard. I’m so very grateful for the memorial in the Boston library and the healing I felt there. I’m grateful for the time and love that went into the scarfs that people all over the world made to give to the athletes running Boston in 2014. I drew much strength from that love and support. I’m grateful for my family and friends, my children and my rock, Jeramiah.

A few days before the marathon, Jeramiah and I walked back along the course. We stopped where we got stopped. In my mind I knew we were almost at the finish line but to actually see how close we were was hard. I’m so glad I didn’t have that to deal with for a year. We stood there, one year later, arm in arm, and cried and then we finished for 2013. We lost something that day and we’ll never get it back. Thankfully, we got something new one year later.

Race day was amazing. There were police officers from so many town and cities, highway patrolman, national guardsman, and many, many others. We thanked as many of them as we could. The crowds were amazing too, so many more than the previous year. Once we got into Boston city, there were officers on both sides of the street every ten to fifteen feet. Once we got to where we’d been stopped the year before, we cried again. This time we got to run under Mass Ave. We got to turn onto Boylston Street. We got to cross the finish line, hand in hand, together. The finish line was amazing. I cried again when I got my medal. That medal didn’t just mark the finish of the race. It brought closure to a horrific chapter in my life and I was grateful to be turning that page.

Why am I telling my story? First, I want to make it clear that I don’t want to take anything away from the people who were killed and physically injured in Boston on April 15, 2013. I’ve read their stories and been inspired by their strength. I’ve cried and asked “Why?” I’m telling my story because it is one that hasn’t been told. There are thousands of people just like me who were there that day who walked away with scars, scars that you can’t see; scars that people don’t know about. There are people out there still dealing with the demons that were thrown at them that horrible day. Their stories need to be told. Their hearts and minds need to be healed. I didn’t used to talk about my experience because it was too hard. But I had a story to tell and every time I tell it, I get a little stronger.

I am grateful and proud to have been able to stand shoulder to shoulder with thousands of runners on April 21, 2014. We stood proud and strong because we’re runners and that’s what we do. The heart and mind of a runner is strong. It has to be. No one lines the streets as we run our training runs. No one heralds our blistered feet or chapped lips. Most people just shake their heads in bewilderment when they hear our stories. But we are strong. And we will carry on.

I knew it! Things got better

So, on my last post I talked about how I knew that if I could just hang in there, my body would adapt to my new normal and I would be okay. Well, muscle memory is incredible and our bodies are amazing. Last week was a little rough toward the end of my run. My calf muscles were tight knots and it took several days to loosen up. Today was awesome!  We had a commitment at 8:00 so we needed to be done by then. My alarm went off at 4:30 and I did not want to get up. I dragged my tired body out of bed and changed into my running clothes. We grabbed a banana and headed out. It often takes me a few miles to settle in but when my Garmn chimed another mile and I didn't know how far we'd gone and I looked and we had already gone 5 miles, I was hopeful it was going to be a good run. The temprature was nice and being early, it was quiet and peaceful. That's one of the thngs I love about running early. There is a peace that exists only in those early hours of morning and I get to fully partake of it because I'm awake and out enjoying it. We got to a convenient store just before mile 11. We hit the bathroom and my husband refilled his vest and we headed out. The sun still hadn't quite risen yet and St George truly is beautiful. Around mile 13, I commented to my husband that just a few weeks ago my calves were knots and my feet hurt and everything below my knees, all those tendons and ligaments hurt. Now, I was feeling incredible great. The last four miles passed without anything really worth noting. When we had 1/2 miles left, I decided I still had enough fuel in my tank to sprint to the finish. I really annoyed my husband. But it felt great to finish like that, strong. Now that I'm home, my calves are tight my not like the last few weeks. I feel great. I feel exceptionally blessed to be running again. 

We only have a few more weeks, three, until we've peaked and then we'll taper. I'm not as fast as I was before my injury but time will heal that too. 

Thanks for checking in with me and come back again soon. :)

I'm back. . .I hope

So a lot has happened so I have lots to catch up on. After lots of frustration, I finally went to see an orthopedic surgeon. I wanted the official opinion about whether running would re-injure my foot. He told me to slowly build and listen to my foot. If pain lasted more than two days, back off. Otherwise, training for my races should be fine. He didn't completely rule out a stress fracture but my insurance is finicky about MRIs so we opted not to do one and go with the tendinitis diagnosis. 

I set out running two days a week to train for Ragnar Napa Valley. I was building to 8 miles/23 miles. It was too late to try to run all those miles so I was going to run/elliptical. Shortly into my training, I had a conversation with my brother. He has torn his minicus, again. We talked with the rest of our team and determined that we would sell our team and try again in a few years. So now I'm just training for the St. George Marathon. Fortunately, I have enough time, barring another injury, to train all of my miles on the road. 

Last Saturday was my first all road, all running training run. My husband and I went 11 miles. The farthest I had gone on my foot up to that point was only seven miles. I handled it okay until about 8 or 9 miles in and then I could really feel the work. Everything from my knees down hurt. My hip flexors were sore, my calves were screaming knots, my feet hurt and every single tendon was sore. I have just babied everything so that my foot could heal. I made it through those 11 miles and was sore in my calves and tendons for a few days. I knew if I could just make it through about three runs, my body would adapt to my new "normal". 

Last night, I set all my running stuff out, my shorts and tank, shoes, sunglasses, Garmin, hydration vest. I set my alarm clock for 5:30 so we could be out the door at 6:00. 5:30 rolls around and it's raining. Really pouring. My husband looked up a radar weather map and I headed outside. It was windy. Really windy. And then I saw the clencher: lightning. I do NOT run in or around lightning. We went back to bed, all the while I was frettng that my foot wouldn't be able to handle a 4 mile jump in miles. I was also worrying about losing time for my body to adapt. I woke up at 7:30 to cloud cover. I decided to eat breakfast and then go to the gym and run as much as I could stand on the track and treadmill. I ate breakfast on the deck and realized it was cooler outside than inside. It's been weeks since that has happened. The cloud cover looked like it would hold for a while so I decided to head out and see how far I could go before it got too warm. My husband quickly got ready and joined me. At five miles we were down to only light cloud cover and by eight, my husband told me he had been fighting what he thought was a side ache for awhile. I handed him half of the Clif bar I had and we walked while he ate it. I could tell that my body was already holding up better than last week. About a mile or so down the road, my husband decided maybe he was hungry and that was the real problem so I handed him the other half. We kind of ran/walked for another mile or so and he told me to finish the run and he would just walk home. It wasn't fast but I did it. I ran 13 miles today and it felt okay. My tendons will likely be a little sore, maybe my calves but I did it. And without pain meds. 

Next week we head out for 15. I'll check the forcast a few days out and plan accordingly. Thanks for checking back in with me. Let me know if you have any questions and come back agan soon. :)

Training for Napa Valley, so far

So I have a piece of advice for anyone out there:  if you have an injury, first realize it. Second, let it heal. Third, you're done. Several weeks ago, my foot started hurting again. Initially I thought maybe I just needed to re-strengthen my foot and it would heal. About two weeks later, it got worse and I had swelling that you could see, not just feel. I started taking it easy, again.  I called my doctor to see if we should have some imaging done and was told to wrap it and take pain meds through the weekend. Check back in after the weekend. I knew that wasn't going to work so I ran on my foot. The doctor didn't tell me not to. I ended up back in the doctor's office where I saw the nurse practitioner. She told me she thought I was probably mis-diagnosed back in December when I had my initial x-ray, probably had a stress fracture, and she ordered another one. Guess what? No stress fracture. I was told to wrap my foot and stablize it and the end. The soft tissue swelling was visible on the x-ray. So now I have been a week and a half with my foot in an ugly blue "shoe" and it's summer. The good news is that I really do think it is healing. It used to be that when I would stand up, particularly when I would stand up and walk after sitting for a while, my foot would hurt for the first few steps. With the shoe on, I can walk without my foot hurting. I suspect that even when my foot finally does heal, I'll always have a little tenderness or twinging pain. It's just been inflammed for so long I don't think it will ever be normal again. 

So, last summer and fall when I was training for the St. George Marathon, I think my foot hurt. I don't know when when it started. I was running a lot. You can't run like I was running and not spend a lot of time without some discomfort. It wasn't until after the marathon that I realized I had tendonitis. When I did, I slowed down. When it didn't heal, I slowed down even more.  My real problem was I don't know when I first had the injury. I wasn't paying attention. It could have only been days but it's more likely it was weeks or months. I just don't know and I wish I could go back. If you catch it right away and take time off, tendinitis heals in a few weeks, usually with no medical intervention. I have no idea how long I'll be down this time. I'm going crazy. Today I should be running 5 miles with a 7 miler tomorrow. My plan is to do Napa Valley Ragnar. I just don't know how it's going to turn out. 

Thanks for checking in with me. Hopefully I'll be back out there soon. Stay with your goals and let me know if you have any questions. 

My very first marathon

My first marathon happened after I had already run my very first 50K. I already knew I could do the distance. My husband decided that he too wanted to do it so we both signed up to run the St. George Marathon. For those of you unfamiliar with the climate of St. George, let me explain. I love it here. I can run year round. In December and January, when the rest of the world is freezing and trying to dig their way our of feet of snow, we are enjoying beautiful sunshine. The trade off is a few weeks in the summer that can sometimes be blistering. We see our first 100 temps as early as May, often though in June. We usually spend six weeks straight at 100+ degrees. I will happily made the trade of a few weeks of hot for no snow. The St. George Marathon runs the first Saturday in October. That means your peak week is usually the first or second week in September. That means you have to buld your highest miles when it's hot. Let's get back to training for my first marathon. It was miserable. My husband and I would go out early, a few times starting around 2am. I don't do that anymore. My husband really struggled with the heat. I do okay as long as we're moving because we create wind as we run. The morning of the marathon was warm. We had had cloud cover over night so we didn't cool off too much. At the starting line, it was cooler and windy. They were handing out trash bags because it was starting to rain. I had on a jacket with a hood and gloves but I still took the trash bag. As we started the race, I tossed it to the side of the road, like many others. My plan was to run with my brother and sister-in-law. My husband had sprained his ankle two weeks before the marathon playing softball so he was on his own (he did finish). St. George has a mass start so there are people everywhere. It's easy to get cut off and that's what happened to me. My brother and sister-in-law got through but I didn't. I watched as their lead grew over the next few miles and I never could catch up. By mile 5, I was alone and wet and cold. I remember coming into an aid station and letting my arms drop. They tingled for the next 2 or 3 miles so I decided not to let them drop again until I crossed the finish line. Somewhere along the way, I couldnt't get my nutrition open because my fingers were too cold so I stopped eating what I brought and ate only occasionally on yhe course.  I was so cold that I didn't think about dehydration but I stopped drinking too. I finished that year in 4 hours and 40 minutes. That was about 20 minutes slower than my projected finish time. I heard later that most people ran betwee 10 and 30 minutes slower than usual. I friend of mine told me she had a friend that went home and weighed her clothes and shoes. They weighed 10 pounds. We waited at the finish line for my husband to finish. He came in nearly 2 hours after me but he did it on a sprained ankle. It was several years later before he decided he wanted to do the marathon again. 

I learned a few things from my first marathon. First, I was never going to do St. George again. It was too hard to train for. Second, never say never. I changed my mind about 3 weeks later and have now done this race six times. Third, regardless of the conditions, eat and drink. This race and recovery didn't have to be as miserable as they were. Pushing myself a little bit and not dwelling on my misery would have helped too. I have looked back on this race many times and each time I grateful I did it. It was a learning experience for me. Hopefully it can be a learning experience for others too. 

Thanks for checking back with me. I'm supposed to be training for Ragnar Napa Valley but I think I may have broken my foot. Hope things are going well for you. Check back again soon. 

Boston Marathon 2014

I know you are all on edge, anxiously awaiting my story from the Boston Marathon. Well, the story starts a few weeks ago. I started physical therapy in February. My insurance agreed to pay for eight visits. Things went fairly well but at the end of eight, I still wasn't better. My insurance agreed to three more visits. I "graduated" physical therapy better but not well. I was frustrated and had decided to give massage therapy a try. I had a conversation with my sister and she told me her mother-in-law did massage therapy and used other holistic healing. I saw her and could tell this might really help. The first time I talked with her, she asked how long I had had my injury. I told her at least back to the St. George Marathon, but probably further. She made a sarcastic comment about how maybe it went back to nearly being bombed in Boston last year. That thought has been sitting in the back of my mind for weeks now. I saw Suzie, the massage therapist, twice before we lt for Boston.  I am pretty sure Suzie was making a difference. 

We got to Boston late Friday morning. I had been anxious for weeks, especially in the days leading up to our flight out. My emotions were sitting just below the surface and really ridiculous things would set me off. Friday we met our host and spent some time with her family. Saturday was a big day. We went into Boston and went to the expo and picked up our packets. We went to the Old South Church. They had organized a scarf project shortly after the events of last year. They had people all over the world make scarfs and send them to the Old South Church. They wanted enough to give to all the runners this year. We got some made by children, which seemed appropriate. We went to the "Dear Boston" exhibit at the library. That was really emotional. We walked back along the course to where we were stopped last year and then walked it in to the finish line. That was also emotional but I think it was healing too. We called it a day early since the next day was Easter. Sunday we planned to go to the Old South Church for the blessing of the athletes but since it was Easter Sunday, everyone in town wanted to go to church, in a historical place. We ended up going to our own church's worship service. We went to the athlete dinner just as early as we could and then went to our new host's house in Hopkinton. We spent a quiet evening with her and got to bed at a good time. 

Monday. Race day!  We slept in. Staying in Hopkinton has its benefits. We watched the early starts on TV and then walked just over a mile to the starting corrals. It was warmer than the forecast but we had left 80 degree temps when we left for Boston so the heat didn't bother us too much. The first six miles were uneventful. Have I mentioned that the longest run I had done to train for Boston was six miles?  We planned to eat at miles 5, 10, 15, 19, and 23. That worked just fine. I planned to take ibuprofen at 6 and 18 miles. That didn't work. By mile 8 I could tell I needed to change my thinking. I spent the next 4-5 miles trying to decide how to change my thinking. I was hurting and I was worried about how deep I was going to have to dig to finish. I took more pain meds at mile 12. The first set kicked in about mile 13. At mile 15, I found my endurance legs. They were a little rusty but ready to go. By the time we hit the hills of Newton, I really was feeling pretty good, better than anyone who didn't properly train should feel. There wasn't one hill I didn't fly up and it felt good. Throughout the race, the crowds were amazing. You could draw from their energy when you needed it. It was wonderful. Around 19 or 20, I could feel the work in my hips. By 23 they were starting to hurt. By that point, our pace was still great and I knew I didn't want to walk. It hurts to start again and it takes longer. When we got close to the place we were stopped last year, I got emotional. I couldn't help it. But I think I needed that. This year we got to run under Mass Ave. We got to turn right on Hereford St. (That little hill hurts at this point!). We got to turn left onto Boylston St. Wow!  It really is everything we hoped it would be. The crowds were huge and the energy they were putting off was amazing. I won't lie, Boylston is longer when you are running it than when you are simply looking down it. Hand in hand, my husband and I finished the Boston Marathon in 4 hours and 20 minutes. Ironically, in about the same time as we were projected to finish last year. My emotions were back as the volunteers put my finish medal around my neck. My phone rang off the hook with messages of love and support and congratulations from family and friends. Boston 2014 was everything I had hoped Boston 2013 would be only more so. Law enforcement were everywhere and I was so grateful to each one for taking the time to ensure my safety. 

We came home today and I am feeling more whole than I have in so long. More than just emotionally. Physically too. In the last few weeks, the morning after I run, my tendon is stiff. Today it wasn't. My body is. I did run a marathon. But my tendon seems fine. Which leads me back to the question Suzie asked me a few weeks ago. The injury does not go back to Boston last year.  However, I am starting to wonder if my injury was my body's way of saying, "You're not dealing with your emotions. I'm going to make you."  Time will tell.  In the meantime, I am grateful. I'm grateful to have finished.  I'm grateful for the dhance to get to.  I'm grateful to the BAA for all of their work in facilitaing the marathon. I'm grateful to all the law enforement for their presence and protection. I'm grateful for anyone who ever asked how I was doing, offered their love, support, and prayers. I'm grateful to my husband, my favorite running partner, for his support and belief in me and generally being simply amazing. I'm grateful to my God. If not for my belief in Him and His tender mercies, I don't know if I would have had the courage to go back and finish what we started. 

Thanks for checking in with me. Come back again soon.  If you have any questions or comments, please feel free to leave them here. Thanks again!

Today, this is a soapbox

It's important to state here that I don't usually use my blog as a forum to vent but I have decided that it is completely appropriate  and probably beneficial. Everyone could occasionally use a reminder.

So I was out running yesterday (I know! I was happy too!) and several times felt like I was taking my life  in my hands to be outside running. I realize that people are in a hurry and that time is precious. I get it, I really do. All I ask is that you acknowledge that my LIFE is important and precious too. So this is what happens far too often. A driver comes to an intersection, preparing to turn right. They come to the intersection and slow into the cross walk, looking only at the traffic to the left as they prepare to merge. They see no traffic and never really stopped so they start to merge. It's at about this point when I have the walk sign on and have entered the cross walk that my life flashes before my eyes and I'm starting to think my children will be orphans. The driver never even bothered to consider pedestrian traffic.

When I'm out running, I follow all traffic laws. I check, double check, and often triple check before crossing a street. I try to make eye contact with drivers. I can't tell you how many times I have nearly been hit by a car (once nearly a garbage truck) in a cross walk with the walk sign on. I promise no where that anyone needs to go is ever so important or pressing that it's worth risking the life of another person. Even if it didn't kill the pedestrian, it could cause an injury that could change their quality of life. Hitting a runner could make it so they could never run again. That would devastate me, likewise for many other runners I know. I don't know how you could ever live with yourself if you hurt or killed someone because you didn't take the time to look.

My advice, unsolicited I know, is simple. As you approach an intersection, don't just look at automobile traffic. Look for pedestrian traffic too. Double check sidewalks and cross walks. If you see foot traffic approaching a cross walk, don't park in it. Pull back and wait. You may earn yourself a grateful wave from a tired runner.

Alright, I'm done now. I have seen too many close calls and experienced too many myself that I felt like it was important enough to merit a blog post. Thanks for checking in with me. I hope you are experiencing success in your fitness goals. Check back in again soon. I may get one more post in before Boston. We'll see. Best of luck!