It's official!

I am officially a finisher of the Boston Marathon.

The weekend was as incredible as everyone said it would be. I flew into Boston on Saturday night and met my mom and stepdad. Sunday was equally incredible, exciting, and weird because it was Easter and for the first time in years, I was not at church. We all slept in, and then I got my final training run in on the treadmill at the hotel. Those three miles felt like they drug on forever. But I finished, showered, and we headed to the expo. It did not disappoint! The excitement and tension of all the runners in the room was immeasurable. I imagine we all felt it; blessed to be there, excited to be running, ecstatic that Boston was back to its normal schedule after two years of chaos, and honored to be a part of such a monumental event.

Race day came, and as always, nerves had me. I really didn't know exactly what to expect once I got to the bus stop (they have busses for all the athletes to take us to the start in Hopkinton). For those of you that don't know, Boston marathon is a point to point race that starts in Hopkinton, MA and runs through six more cities before finishing in Boston, MA. I have never done a point to point race, so everything about Boston was completely new to me. Our bus ride to Hopkinton took just under an hour, where we waited in Athlete's Village for our wave to be called. Eventually, my wave proceeded to the start line. Everything felt so surreal. It was different than other races I've ran. We all worked hard to earn our place at Boston. Not only did we train, but we qualified. It was a different level. And while many people were there to race and potentially after a PR (personal record, or fastest race time), many were there to enjoy this incredible and historic event. I went into the race knowing I would not be running a PR, and with the sole intention of enjoying the fact that I was there. A couple miles in, and my pace was significantly faster than I had anticipated. But I am competitive, and I wanted to see how long I could keep that pace. Turns out, about 20 miles. And then I hit the wall. For those of you wondering, going into a sunny, 50-degree, 26.2 mile race with not enough water is a poor life choice! Seems obvious. I didn't intend to go into it dehydrated. But with the travel and everything else, it had been difficult to drink the amount of water I should have in the days leading up to the race. Those last 6 miles were probably the hilliest of the race, and leg cramps from lack of water did not serve me well. There were a lot of moments of doubt in those final miles. I hit mile 20 and got a text from a dear friend, "10k left! Praying for strength!" One of my biggest supporters, doing just that. Little did she know how much I needed that encouragement at that moment. I wasn't sure I'd be able to reach the finish line. But if you know me, you know I'm stubborn. One foot in front of the other. One mile at a time. That's how you finish the race.

I had a loose goal in mind of 3:30-3:45, and honestly wasn't sure where I'd land with my final time. When I took off so much faster than I anticipated, I realized that 3:30 goal might actually be attainable. When I hit miles 20-26, I knew it would be close because I had slowed down. When I came around the final turn, there wasn't much of the race left. I could see the finish line. And as I got closer, I could see the clock counting up. It was currently at 3:25. And I gave it everything I had to finish the race strong. I came in at 3:26:58. My average pace was 7:54. Significantly slower than my qualifying race in Indianapolis in the fall, yet I was just as proud of this finish as I was of that Indy finish. There were many moments throughout the race that I almost cried, and I did cry once I crossed the finish line. So many moments those voices in my head told me I couldn't make it. And I proved every one of them wrong.

Scripture tells us life is like a race, and that during the race we must keep our eyes on Jesus because He is the author and perfecter of our faith. As I ran this marathon, I was reminded that it was for a greater purpose, and that those final miles were not out of my own strength. My own strength failed me. It is by the grace of God that I was able to push through the final 10k of the race to the finish. I'm not entirely sure what story God is writing with me and running. But I do know I am blessed and honored to be along for the ride. And I couldn't be more excited to have had this opportunity to take it to Boston this week.