marathon monday

...you gave me no warning of what was to be

2001: The Twin Towers are still standing. I’m still jet-setting around the country. Masks are for Halloween. I hadn’t yet married the man who trained me for the Boston Marathon.

Boston boy, this running coach; sub-3-hour marathoner. He gave me training schedules scribbled on notepads, stopwatch clicking as I ran 400s. I gave him my all. We gave ourselves, for better or worse.

Marathon Monday, the morning as tart as the first bite of a green apple. A jellybean hangover. In my glove, a note: the race does not always go to the swiftest, but to those who shall endure.

The Johnny Kelley monument at the base of Heartbreak Hill: what if you could meet a version of yourself from the future and benefit from the wisdom of a lifetime yet to be lived?