My Inner-child

As I sat watching Channel 5, I couldn't help but be fascinated with the incredible feat happening right before my eyes. These runners were flying, trying to complete 26.2 miles at a pace well under five minutes a mile. Meanwile, I was barely able to crack sub-7 for one mile, never mind 26 of them. But as Cosmas Ndeti and Uta Pippig emerged victorious that Patriots Day in 1994, I couldn't help think that someday I too would be running past the Pru to the promised land.

Fast forward to March 24, 2011. I've qualified, and I even qualified again. I got to the point where the crazy qualifying circus turned me off of Boston. I finally made it in by qualifying in November of 2009 at Philadelphia, but the race sold out ahead of then, so I had to wait for the 2011 edition. I told myself that qualifying was more special than running the race itself. I honestly believed it.

I didn't hear it at the time, but that seventh grader inside of me yelled, "The hell it is!", and I realize now with 25 days left that he's absolutely right. Shame on me for becoming jaded and not seeing the importance of what Boston is all about. Did I forget about how seeing the Hoyts made me feel good inside? Did I forget about Heartbreak Hill? Did I forget that it all took place pratically in my own backyard?

Qualifying was more special than the race itself? Was I out of my mind? This is Boston. This is thousands of runners invading Hopkinton Common. This is screaming co-eds in Wellesley. This is conquering the Newton Hills, but always respecting the last one. This is Cleveland Circle, Coolidge Corner, and Kenmore Square. This is a left hand turn onto Boylston Street.

Most importantly, this is my dream, and I've earned the right to be in the mix - one of the crazies if you will - and it will be one of the most memorable experiences of my life.

Looks like I only needed to get in touch with my inner-child to realize it.