When I am 70 years old the date April 19th 2010 will resonate with me deep in the bowels of my heart and deep in the depths of my soul. Why you ask? It was a day which represented so much. It represented dreaming and believing to make things happen. It represented that we can achieve anything if we put our minds to it. It represented me believing in me, loving me and doing for me. It was a day in which I left my past behind me and saw a new bright future. Perhaps this all sounds so dramatic for when I tell you what that day represented you won't get it, you won't comprehend it but that is no matter because I shall and I will, forevermore.
April 19th 2010 was the day I ran the 114th Boston Marathon. It was a long tough road to there but I tread it hard, tough and with every ounce of hardiness, sturdiness and strength I had. No one and nothing will ever take this experience away from me. Qualifying was one thing...Working so damn hard towards a goal I wanted so damn bad. I remember weeks leading up to my qualifier I would find myself in tears of fear. My psyche asking what if I didn't do it? What if I couldn't do it? But alas I did it. I pushed through and made a dream come true.
Every single hard ass mile of Boston was a dream come true. It lit my soul on fire. Every instant leading up to the race was truly amazing. Walking the streets with 40,000 runners was awe inspiring. I wore my Boston jacket with great pride and continue to every chance I get.
I will never forget a phone call from my dad 10 days before Boston race day. I had just come in from a run and was preparing my dinner. I was starving and was in no mood for chatter. My Dad gots straight to the point...Sar, he said. I answered Yes, Dad. He went on: I need to tell you something. I said sure ok come on out with it...He went on to explain to me how in our family no one had ever participated in something like the Boston Marathon and to him and to my mom The Boston Marathon was equivalent to the Olympics...and forevermore he would see me, his only daughter as an olympian. I cried. The great pride in his voice left my heart with a feeling of pure joy. It was overwhelming in the best possible way.
Today was the Toronto Waterfront Marathon where I went to cheer all my friends and fellow runners on. I wore my Boston jacket with pride. When I wear it I am an approachable runner. People ask me about it and I always get the Boston nod from fellow Boston runners.
My parents think I should frame the jacket..Helllsss no. I will wear this bloody thing with so much pride until the day I die...When its tattered and faded and not as lustrous it shall remain one apple of my eye.
Thank you Boston Marathon for everything you gave me...I truly hope to see you again one day soon. Until then...