It was Spring 2012. I vividly remember passionately composing the most beautiful, over-sized and cheerfully bright blue binder.
I’d engineered it for the sole purpose to chase my dream to (someday) qualify and run the prestigious- mecca of all marathons, Boston.
I’d decorated my binder with the exact color match to the Boston Athletic Association; scattered only the most motivational images across the entire front cover.
You know, the images that give you goosebumps. The ones featuring the best of the best competing to cross their finish line first with nothing but pure anguish and self pride smeared across their faces- those ones.
This binder had it all.
Everything I’d ever wanted when I was 23 years; young.
The most precise mile time split charts, Boston’s rules and qualifying times (now too slow), my personal records, Hal Higdon’s marathon training logs and my five (or so) marathon finisher certificates.
The binder also seemed to swiftfully collect a little bit more of me
each time I opened it.
This very blue binder; my dream…
was my potential force for magic.
Something powerful; something entirely all my own.
I recently woke up with nothing but Boston on my mind.
Since then, I’ve asked myself, “There has to be a reason for this, right?”
Maybe. Maybe not.
Now, September 2017- I stand 28 years; old.
I’ve yet to run Boston, nor reach close to qualifying.
I guess you can say I “strayed off course; got lazy…distracted.”
Eh, a mix of both sound familiarly fair.
It’s quite possible I don’t want to run Boston as badly as I did in 2012 (I was obsessed, a super nerd freak), but I also can’t deny the little pull I feel still living, pushing on the insides of my heart-
cheering for me to keep after it.
So, yes.. I still want it; bad enough to never give up.
I knew there’d been a reason I recently dragged my sister to the Boston Marathon Documentary on a random Tuesday night.
I knew there was a reason my heart still pounded with potential before the beginning of every race; a reason I still got giggly engaged around the excitement of it all…
everything marathon, everything 26.2.
A large enough part of me still wants my piece of Boston.
A part to call my own, as well as a my piece to fit in the largely inspiring puzzle we all now refer to as Boston strong.
After the 2014 bombings, I remembering every single one of my emotions crumbling all at once in that one moment
I’ve always been one to admire bold individuals; determined communities.
I’d tell anyone (young and old) with a dream of someday running the Boston Marathon (or with any deeply desired dream) to passionately
chase after it.
So here I am. Five stubbornly lived years later…
realizing my mind will never stop racing back; back to the vivid image of my 2012 Boston blue colored binder and its intimate significance it holds
-until I do the darn thing.
If I’ve got anything to look forward to, it’s the bittersweet taste of my salty sweat and the sheer mental mind game possibility of crossing the Boston marathon finish line that’ll keep me propelling forward
and god willingly past that very 26.2 mile finish.
Even if it has to live solely in my dreams a few years longer-
The journey to my Boston Marathon finish line will be OH SO MORE than worth it.
Hold FAST to Your Dreams,