One year ago today, I was at work eagerly awaiting to see my friends results and pictures from their first ever run at the Boston Marathon. Instead, I read the news that there had been explosions at the finish line. All 4 of my friends ended up safe, but there were so many people that weren’t so lucky. That day was the day that I realized “tomorrow” wouldn’t always keep coming and that it was time to start doing things that I had always put off. That afternoon was the first time I went for a run and the day I fell in love with it.
Running has since become my own little drug. It’s what I use to clear my head, to challenge myself, to make my crazy world stop spinning- one mile at a time. When I suffered my miscarriage in July, running was my only friend. No one close to me understood how I felt or what I needed, but running made that okay. Especially the day I ran my very first race at the end of October, all the sadness and all the grief of my loss melted away as I crossed the finish line. And just two weeks later, our little girl was made.
So today, my not quite as little girl and I will be heading out in our same old Nike’s for a sloppy, super pregnant jog to remind me why I do the things I do, why I never say “tomorrow” anymore, and why I’ll teach her that same lesson when she’s older.