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.
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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.
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I can see the finish. I can hear my name as I cross the timing mats. I can feel the joy.