By Rachel Von
The air was cool and a chill traveled up my bare legs as I took that step out the door. A pit was in my stomach, churning. I sauntered to the starting point, giving my GPS watch time to find a satellite. I got to the corner and watched the bar travel up and down the face of the watch. Up and down.
"There was a witch, in Williams-Woodland," my husband said. "Don't you remember her?" My reply was a blank stare. "It was right after the guy with the microphone," he continued, obviously trying to pique my memory.
I have my number - 14182. I have my shirt ... and luggage tag, magnet, pen, requisite goodies. I also have a coupon for a $1 drink at Parkview Field after the race tomorrow.
Today is the day. Well, tomorrow is actually the day, but things will all start to feel real today.
Jim Berry went from running the Boston Marathon to struggling with a mile. And now, he's back.
I can see the finish. I can hear my name as I cross the timing mats. I can feel the joy.