The start


My first blog post. The first step in getting to where I want to go. Well, not literally, the first step, more like a stand. Or a lean. A pose. A tip-toe? Anyway, 26.2 miles through the streets of Chicago is where the real goal begins, and ends.

Chicago. I’m so happy the marathon is in Chicago. My grandmother, Carole, grew up and lived there her whole life. I did too, until recently. Selfishly the route, for the most part, is flat. Good ole flat Chicago. For the most part. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t scared. I’m freaking out a little right now in fact just thinking about it. Pulse increasing, heart palpitating, heat rising up through my chest into my throat and face. I’m okay, I’m okay. Deep breath. It’s just a really long run. A really long run that six or seven people die while or after each year. But I’m okay.

After the terror subsides, I remember why I’m doing this and that makes me feel better. Good, in fact. I’m remembering and celebrating an amazing woman, for whom without, I wouldn’t be the woman I am today. And I’m grateful and honored to be so lucky.

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