I started running 6 years ago.
At the time I was toned, tanned, fit, and healthy. For maybe the first time ever.
On the one hand I had lost weight. And did so healthfully.
On the other hand I had come to terms with my social life. Meaning I was single.
That wasn’t changing.
Others were meeting the person of their dreams. EVERYONE was meeting the person of their dreams. And moving in together. And marrying. And building pretty little white picket fences around their idyllic homes where they lived their idyllic lives. Together.
And then there was me.
Table for 1 please.
Yet after countless years of frustrating heart-aching attempts to turn frogs (toads, newts, salamanders, you name it) into princes, I was finally, as of the summer of 2010, ok with being single. More than ok. I revelled in it.
And that of course is when it all happened. I met D. We fell in love. And we’ve lived happily ever after ever since.
They say it always happens when you least expect it, right?
I started running 6 years ago. Yes that same year of 2010. It was really a renaissance year in my life.
I was toned, tan, fit, and healthy.
Did I already say that?
Well it bears repeating.
Anyway, I started running. It was for fun. I wasn’t particularly stellar but to this day I am defiantly proud that I raced a half marathon as my very first race. With only 17 days to train. And completed it in 1:51 and change.
My love affair with running was officially born. Kicking from the womb like a skittish colt auditioning for The Rockettes at Radio City.
I mixed some metaphors there didn’t I?
Oh well. I digress. My love affair with running was born. And with it the quest to get stronger. Faster. And one day just maybe, qualify for Boston.
But like my former dating life, I’m realizing sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs to get to your prince.
Training is hard. Maddening at times. And I find myself fitfully still without a BQ. While of course everyone around me is qualifying for Boston or making miraculous progress in doing so.
So a new leaf. Maybe I’m not meant to be a Boston Qualifier. And that’s ok. More than ok. Because I am now running freely again. For fun again.
But who knows? Maybe it’s when I finally let go of Boston. Just like all those years ago when I finally let go of finding Mr. Right.
Maybe it’s when I least expect it. Like when I met D.
Maybe one day I will cross that finish line. Look at my watch. And realize it.
That I become a Boston Qualifier.