and a lifetime of surprises
she runs
to discover
and become again
it ends with 13.1
half of nothing
and all
of herself
©Erin Croley
(from a #HeartSoup Twitter prompt, inspired by a friend's 2014 running journey)
over 12 months
and a lifetime of surprises she runs to discover and become again it ends with 13.1 half of nothing and all of herself ©Erin Croley (from a #HeartSoup Twitter prompt, inspired by a friend's 2014 running journey)
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I know I haven't trained for this
to run the way I do it's why at mile 5 my stomach cramps and at mile 8 I cry about being a mother ©Erin Croley (from a #HeartSoup Twitter prompt) (This story was originally published on Chafing The Dream. Check it out here to see photos as well.)
My Chicago Marathon journey began with the dream of a Boston qualifying personal record, and ended with me crossing the finish line one hour over my last marathon time (not even close to Boston, or anything I’d like to acknowledge publicly). In between these extremes, I was injured, slowly rehabbing, vacationing, working, supporting the marathon training of my husband, falling way short on my training goals, experiencing small positive steps forward and mini-victories that gave me hope for my health and Chicago, and then eventually, and very publicly, claiming that I absolutely was not going to complete the Chicago Marathon. I've spent the last few days watching my kids chafing their dream, literally. Hours on the sand and in the Atlantic Ocean off the coast of North Carolina, my two kids have built sand castles, collected sea shells (and a few pistachio shells), learned to jump over waves and ride them to the shore, and swallowed lots of sea water. They've also developed chafing sand burns on their arms and legs, not realizing it until they hit the stinging bath water after a day of pure, pure joy.
I try to stand perfectly still
let the breeze filter the sun's warmth through my sweat-soaked clothes but my face keeps tilting up and my heart keeps beating ©Erin Croley Last Monday, I watched Meb Keflezighi’s last three miles of the 2014 Boston Marathon on the edge of an ottoman in front of the television in my St. Louis home while my kids ate breakfast in the next room.
Written in memory of 4.15.2013 and the moment of silence at the start of the Big Sur Marathon 13 day after...
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