19 miles of pure suckage (with a little bit of a happy ending)

Last week couldn't have been more different. I woke up to a sunny day and ran a strong 13-miles with the spring wind at my back the whole time. I felt a huge difference from the last time I ran 13 miles, and, for the first time in my training, I felt like a runner. My body felt strong, my mind was clear and focused - it just felt good.

This past Saturday was an entirely different story. I was a bit worried for the run, since all of last week I had been burning the midnight oil and hadn't gotten enough sleep. Indeed, from the moment the run started, things just weren't right. The rain had already begun, and only two miles in, I had to stop and trek into Boston University to find a bathroom. Things never recovered after that. The wind started blowing and I started getting stomach cramps. I crossed over the river and was hit by a wall of wind for the next five miles. My body was struggling and then all of the sudden my brain turned on me.

When I was in Slovakia last summer for a music festival, my friends and I walked past this guy, curled in a ball on the grass - clearly on drugs and clearly not liking it. "That guy's world is imploding right now," said my friend. Well, that's what my world felt like for an entire 12 miles and two hours of running. I slowed to a stumble, my feet were soaked and my hands frozen. I had to stop again to find a bathroom and I couldn't believe that I still had seven miles to go. I pulled the bill down on my hat and my world became a semi-circle of rain and pain.

Just last week I was a runner! And now, I was a stumbling mess that was practically crawling along the river. All my teammates were miles ahead. I was alone and running and it just wouldn't end.

And then, at about mile 12, I just got really mad and I decided to turn it around.

At last week's Bottom Line meeting, our team met a student who told us a little of his story. Jerry was born in Haiti and talked to us about growing up with rats biting him in his sleep and his mom struggling to pay for his schooling. When his mom couldn't afford it any longer, he was sent to America to live with his Dad. His Dad mistreated him and sent him off to another Haitian family, where they made him work each night collecting garbage and treated him like a slave. Finally, at just 16 years-old, Jerry realized he couldn't stay in that situation and moved out on his own. He got an apartment, worked 50 hours a week and finished high school. He eventually found out about Bottom Line, and when he wasn't accepted into any colleges, they helped him get into a boarding school and then reaplly to colleges the following year. Jerry is now a sophomore at Regis College, is studying in their competitive nursing program and also works full-time. More often than not, Jerry doesn't sleep because he goes to classes during the day and works two jobs during nights to pay for school.

When Jerry spoke to us about his experience, he stressed how grateful he is to Bottom Line and how he would never give up on them because they never gave up on him. He thanked us for running the marathon and for helping.

I couldn't stop thinking of Jerry. In the obsessive, delirious state that high-mileage running brings, Jerry became my running guardian angel. Now, I feel ridiculous complaining about some painful three-hour run. In the grand scheme of things, it is completely insignificant and silly. But, during my implosion, I was just completely overwhelmed with how grateful I was to be running for someone like Jerry. This kid that doesn't even know me, that is doing things much harder than run 19 miles.

So, for the last seven miles, I ran with Jerry and put it all in a little perspective. The truth is, it was just as shitty for the last seven miles. With only two miles left, I had to start yelling at myself to keep going (and I'm sure I made an awesome portrait of a person - soaked right through and yelling obscenities into the wind). But, I finished. The whole goddamn 19 miles. In the rain. For three and half hours. For Jerry.

I write a lot about the bumps and bruises, but the reason I am running the Boston marathon has nothing to do with me or the shocking amount of body glide needed (or the shocking amount of hamburgers I've eaten this year alone). The reason that I am running is for the Bottom Line students and for a great organization that makes a great impact on people's lives.

And so, more than feeling tired, wet and sore (and cranky beyond belief), I just feel grateful.