Marathon Monday, once the Boston Marathon was postponed, loomed on the calendar a small-picture disappointment. In the big picture, the race mattered little given the state of affairs, but I’d worked hard for several years to qualify post-cancer. In 2019 I ran a personal best at the Vermont City Marathon and earned a spot at Boston. When the virus demanded nationwide attention to eradicating it, I made peace with Boston being ellipsis pointed into the future. As Marathon Monday approached, I felt sadness descend, unhelpful in this already wearisome present tense.
The week before I realized I could perhaps run a solo marathon on April 20. I had the training and the time. If I ran it slow, my risk of injury was relatively low. Because running is helping me cope with being home and all the uncertainty, that mattered. I talked to Ty about it, then to running partners, and all of them said if I decided to run they’d join for a few miles. So I decided to do it. I ran my seventh marathon from and to the front door of my house, my slowest time and loneliest course. Having partners for part of the run made it doable. Running through the years, checks this trifecta of blocks: it challenges me, it provides self-care, and it helps me celebrate my own strength. Last Monday it also allowed me to control the choice to run, even as the pandemic took away the race. I’m glad I did it.
Outside of the run, week six passed in the same Groundhog Day reality as the previous five weeks. We can’t quite seem to break into repeated sunny days here, and I notice that on bad weather days finding energy takes work. On nice days, Ty and I go go for walks, the cats watch the birds, and Darby lays in the grass in the backyard. The household breathes easier; we’re all better for it. I don’t really have a lot more to say about last week, though. It passed. I noticed spring continuing to emerge, brighter and brighter colors showing up in the flora and fauna almost daily. We hiked a bit of the Appalachian Trail over the weekend. I felt the true joy and the most myself when I ran the marathon, and that highlight makes me marvel a bit that joy exists in the midst of uncertainty and a broken world. I’m trying to pay attention to that as a means of getting through.
It’s working for me. What’s working for you?
