What do I remember most about the Boston Marathon? The people. The volunteers. The cheers. The support. The words of encouragement. We had to run in that weather, but all the volunteers and spectators had to stand in that weather and I have hardly witnessed a happier group of people. I was partially grateful for the rain that day to disguise the tears that freely flowed every time I came upon another group of cheering supporters. Forever in my mind is the memory of the sweet woman handing out ponchos at the finish line. “I can’t,” was all my numb body and mind could manage. “Don’t worry, Sweetie. I’ll do it for you,” was her response as she lovingly placed my arms into the poncho. A total stranger offered me her cup of soup when she came across me shivering and alone on the sidewalk waiting for my family. Another volunteer put her arm around me and personally escorted me several blocks to a building where I could change into dry clothes and warm up. Thousands of people ran the race that day, but I still felt important, cared for, appreciated and loved.

I’d be remiss if I failed to mention coming across the finish line. I think my body was so past feeling because of the cold that fatigue did not start to set in until the last few miles, but as I turned the corner and saw the Citgo sign, my body was filled with an incredible energy. I found myself slowing down, though, to avoid tripping on the plethora of ponchos dropped by other runners in anticipation of the end. Then as I spied the finish line I was overcome with emotion once again. I had just finished the Boston Marathon! The race of a lifetime.