There’s just something about the Boston Marathon that strikes me at my very core. It dates back to 2003 when I first watched it from the sidelines. I was a Freshman at Boston University and was deeply moved seeing the determination of thousands of participants making their way to Boylston Street.
I dreamed of running the Boston Marathon someday, but almost immediately wrote it off as an unreachable goal upon learning about the qualifying standards. Little did I know I would earn a spot at the start line 6 years in a row and its impact on my life would be profound.
This year, I tuned in from our current home in Florida with our sweet 5-month old baby Ellie napping on my lap. My emotions stirred and happy tears streamed down my face as I thought about all that had transpired since I first toed the line exactly 6 years earlier.
The horrific events of April 15th 2013 undeniably had a far-reaching and deep impact. While I was among the lucky ones to cross the finish line physically unscathed and ultimately reunite with all of my family members and friends, it sent my life careening off course. Or at least that’s what I initially thought.
Growing up, I was very much a “Type A” personality. I applied myself to school and recreational activities probably more seriously than was healthy. I was focused on following the socially accepted path to success. I graduated from a great university, completed training to work as a Registered Dietitian, purchased a house and got married. Somewhere along the way I traded in my self-worth to avoid the eventual “ding” on my life resume of break-up/divorce.
I married my first ever boyfriend in 2012, telling myself that marriage would secure his faithfulness. Major life events tend to make or break couples. For us, it magnified the issues in our relationship. By the time I toed the start line in 2014, I knew I had a decision to make: protect my seemingly perfect life resume or reclaim my self-respect and self-worth. I had become a meek, shell of a person trying my best to hide the truth of my marriage from family, friends and even myself.
The run from Hopkinton to Boston in 2014 was a suffer-fest for me. Though neither knew all that I was battling inside, two of my best friends literally pulled me along all 26.2 miles. Finishing meant I would have to confront the scene of terror and tragedy. I also knew in my heart that crossing the finish line again meant accepting that the “ding” of divorce on my life resume needed to happen. If I was strong enough to make it to the finish line, I was strong enough to set myself and my then-husband free so we could go on to live our best lives.
I am forever grateful for the love, support and encouragement from my friends and family during that difficult time and always. Without them, there’s no way I would have crossed either finish line – that of the 2014 Boston Marathon or that of my previous unhealthy marriage. Their belief in me restored my belief in myself. With that, I found the courage to be me. To let myself see and be seen. To believe that true love exists.
In the years that followed, the Boston Marathon became a true celebration for me to honor how far I’d come and recognize my appreciation for the meaningful relationships I have. I don’t know when I’ll return to that start line in Hopkinton, but I know each year when the Boston Marathon rolls around I will stop and reflect on all that I am grateful for. In addition to those family members and friends that have been there by my side since well before 2014, I now have what I once thought impossible – a loving, supportive, committed, better-than-I-could dream-up soulmate and a healthy & beautiful baby girl.
Congratulations to all who ran Boston on Monday.