SQUEAK

21 seconds.

the time it takes my youngest to brush his teeth (dental hygiene has never been his strong suit).
the average time of a commercial (i totally just made that up.  but it sounds about right).
the time it takes you to read this post (that is, if anyone out there is reading this? if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around...).


next week i will find out if 21 seconds is enough to get me back into the world's most historic marathon. you see, i have some unfinished business with you, my dear boston. i was cheated out of a celebration after crossing the line in 2013.  instead of being holed up in a bar sipping (guzzling) Sam Adams 26.2 beer, i was terrified inside a strange hotel, sitting on the cold floor.  i was huddled around a TV in the lobby watching the terror of the afternoon's event unfold.  we weren't the criminals, yet we were locked in, the animals causing the terror still lurking the streets that we just triumphantly ran.  instead of hugging my husband and running partners with pride and joy, i clung to them in fear and shock.  i don't even think i got to tell any of them "good job".

then the "what if's" filled my mind and bullied my dreams.

it meant so much much to me to participate in my first boston marathon in 2013.
in 2015 it means even more. closure.

i WILL be there, running.  whether i get in with my squeaker time or raise money for a charity.  i'll be there.  and i'll finish and celebrate.  no one can take it away from me. not this time.