Yes, I am still on the list for an apartment. I am doing my planting in pots and I will move them to my daughter's house when I move. I don't intend to lose anything, thank you. I wasn't born a Scot for nothing.
My daughter posted this on her facebook page this evening.
I made a point of it and ran in honor of some strangers who have been on my mind.
Shallow as it may be in the scope of the injuries and lost lives, the first thing that struck me in the early pictures from Boston was the race clock at 4:09:45. The elite runners had finished two hours earlier. I can only imagine what it means to a 4:09:45+ runner to cross the finish line at Boston. Some may have barely qualified and felt fortunate just to be there, seconds away from a lifetime achievement. I haven't run a marathon, but I've run a half, and crossing that finish line after nearly two and a half hours remains one of the most memorable moments of my life, not too far behind saying "I do" and giving birth to my kids.
The people approaching the line in the picture were people a lot like me. We know at the start that we're not going to "win." Instead we strive to beat the person we were yesterday (and often, that guy four paces ahead of us). When the race clock comes into view, we will our legs to chug just a little bit faster, and perhaps the clock to slow down just a bit. Finishing is our victory, euphoria is our reward, and a PR is our Olympic gold.
I do mourn for those who died and those who were injured and face long recoveries. But while I know that in that split-second finishing suddenly became very unimportant, my heart also aches for all those strangers, my fellow runners, whose chance to cross the finish line at Boston was stolen."
I am proud of her and of her thoughts.
| current weight: 248.0