One week to go until the Boston Marathon.
My taper was going great. I cleared the longest run of the progression — 22.5 miles. I had sorted out my shoes — no more blisters. I felt brilliant on the shorter runs.
But then the bottom fell out. Last week, my legs were sore and stale. My lower back hurt. I was losing motivation. It continued all week. So I pushed through all the workouts. My right shin hurt. My right side felt like broken ribs. My right hip started causing problems again. I was exhausted.
There were other things going on, too.
I had allergies that made me feel drained. I was confronting the loss of my son Romeo all over again. I lost a few nights of sleep along the way.
The Marathon will be emotional for many reasons. Romeo was due on Marathon Monday, back in 2005. We were worried about how we were going to get to the hospital on the race course. But he came early. And we lost him because of that. The last nine years have been a slow hell.
There are the bombings, too. All week on NPR they’ve been reliving the events of last year. And I remember that same sense of helplessness, that search for meaning, that lingering pain.
I’ve connected the two events in my mind. So I’m hoping things turn around this week. That I’ll feel fresh and recovered. That I’ll be prepared for the 26.2 miles. That I’ll be ready to run.
And I’ll run by Newton-Wellesely Hospital.
And I’ll get over Heartbreak Hill.
And I’ll finish — hopefully — on Boylston Street.