I imagined this night for many months, rehearsing in my head all the little things I would have to remember and wondering what it would feel like to be lying in bed, on the brink of running my first marathon. For the longest time it seemed rather incomprehensible, as I was still physically incapable, nowhere near my fundraising goal, and the brutal weather made spring seem like such a distant concept. Ironically, it was not until several weeks ago when it began to dawn on me how that distant fantasy had ever so slowly crept close enough to the point where I could began to envision it, almost just before it was all snapped away. I have often struggled to walk away from unfinished tasks, no matter how small or even unimportant to me. Way too often I'll be at work staining some mouse brains or whatever and realize that I am actually on the brink of peeing my pants, but I'll be damned if I let myself go to the bathroom before I am finished putting on these antibodies. And I don't even care about immunostaining (nor is it remotely time sensitive). So with this loss, I have never in my life felt such a sense of incompletion. It is highly unsettling, and unbearably distracting. I feel stuck, like I cannot move forward and tackle my next challenges--leaving my job, getting a new one, and finding a new apartment all within the next few months--until I have finished this. It is a new phenomenon for me to feel such stagnation, and finding the ability to let go and focus on new tasks has been annoyingly difficult, and thus far unsuccessful. What the heck am I going to do?

When we parked downtown to go to the expo today, it just so happened to that we found a spot on Commonwealth shortly after Mass Ave. As I headed to the convention center with a throng of relatives in tow, I found myself taking a right on Hereford and a left on Boylston. I wont pretend that many tears haven't already been shed over the past 2 weeks, and the bitterness of traversing these final turns of the course in my clunky boot on my way to collect a bib that I wont even use set the tone for a very difficult time at the expo. I felt so out of place in my stupid boot and dour mood, the sheer opposite of everyone around me. And I couldn't help but feel some resentment...I put in just as much work as everyone else, but nobody cares about someone who *almost* ran the Boston Marathon. The recognition is in the race, not the training, even though the race is the best part. At least I had a lovely conversation with the KT tape vendor, who read my cloudy expression and gave me two free rolls of Boston Strong tape.

Tomorrow, I wish all my friends and teammates the best of runs. Naturally, the weather looks perfect. I have decided to watch on Heartbreak Hill, and you should catch us on the left hand side (most likely), probably with an obnoxious amount of noise makers and some very glittery signs. I'll have my yellow Samaritans shirt on. I absolutely applaud everyone who has made the effort to partake in this amazing event, and I have loved training alongside you. Good luck!