In 2008 I fumbled my way through the Boston marathon with an undiagnosed and uncared for crippling knee injury. The days leading up to the race I could barely walk, but I was determined to cross that finish line on marathon Monday with little concern as to what the numbers on the clock said. I wasn't running for time that year, instead I was running to overcome all of the adversity I had faced in the months leading up to race day that seemed to prevent me from a comfortable arrival at the destination that I was so adamantly pursuing. Rather then allowing myself to become drunk with expectation, I allowed myself the rare chance to be vulnerable and cumbersome for the sake of living out a lesser then desired life experience.
I finished in 4:09, which is by far my slowest marathon to date and my most painful. But the numbers have become so irrelevant in my mind over the years that I rarely think about them. Instead, my mind has held onto different memories of that day; how much my knee ached on the hills, how I considered several times of pulling out but instead decided that I'm not a quitter so I pressed on, how as I climbed heartbreak hill tears streamed down my face, how as I turned onto Boylston St. I was overcome with sentiment about the pain and anguish that I somehow overcame in those 26.2 miles and felt like I had won. The numbers are the last thing that cross my mind when I think about Boston but always the first thing I'm asked by others when discussing the experience. Curious.
This Monday's race brought back a lot of unexpected emotion for me as I sat in the silent solitude of my home nearly 1,000 miles away from athletes village tracking some of the strongest and most inspiring runners I have ever come into contact with. I could feel their fears as their dreams of race day glory slowly slipped out of their reach and they all turned into survival mode.
We all set out in life with great expectations, with whom we've found a deep attachment towards, for ourselves. As the course of life events begin to unfold leading up to our unfulfilled hopes and dreams, sometimes it can be difficult for us to cut that cord of attachment when the road begins to throw us for a loop and can often lead to self-induced heartache and disregard for the value in the lesson before us. Blindly losing faith and sinking into a deep pool of despair becomes so easy when we have found such a deeply rooted attachment to our expectation and don't allow ourselves a bit of wiggle room for the sake of an unexpected valuable life lesson.
|Please ignore the grammar error in the last sentence.|
I'm not perfect and rarely proofread.