My life over the last week has been nothing short of a huge emotional roller coaster. It’s been highs followed by lows, then quickly followed by highs…
One week ago today, as I was preparing for 3 days of fun and celebrations for our last weekend in Greenville, I woke up and looked in the mirror to see this:
According to my doctor, I had an “infected follicle” in my eye (basically a giant zit) and was completely miserable. I still attended the planned happy hour with my coworkers and dinner with good friends, but I felt pretty crappy and just really wanted to be home in bed.
Saturday morning, despite waking up with my eye still swollen and painful, I had a fantastic last long run with my very favorite running partner, Char. The miles flew by effortlessly as we chatted and reminisced and were reminded why we are such close friends.
I rushed home to shower and get ready to go decorate for another dear friend’s baby shower, when I noticed that Walter had managed to break open his stitches from a minor procedure he had earlier in the week. We rushed to the vet, got him stitched back up (and acquired a “cone of shame”) and barely made it on time to decorate.
The shower was flawless. The parents-to-be were glowing, the food was great, the decorations were beautiful and we had a fantastic time celebrating with many of our best friends, followed by more drinks on our deck after the party.
Despite all of the fun, Brad and I were in bed at the reasonable hour of 11 p.m. and were sleeping soundly, until we woke up (for some unknown reason) at 2:30 in the morning to discover that Walter had gotten his cone off and managed to break his stitches open again. The wound couldn’t wait until the morning, so I took him to the emergency vet. He got staples, more pain meds and a new, soft cone. We were finally back home in bed by 4:00 am.
Sunday we planned a “Sunday Funday” with all of our friends to eat leftover shower food (and cake!) and watch The Masters. It was a fun afternoon, but ended on a very somber note. Once everyone left, I sat on the couch crying with Alicia (above) about the impending move. I knew it was coming and that day, reality finally settled in. We are leaving all of our amazing friends and our life here behind. I know exciting things lie ahead, but the transition will be difficult and I will really miss my friends.
Despite the low that was Sunday night, I woke up Monday morning buzzing for Marathon Monday. I watched the live feed at my desk while I multi-tasked teleconferences. I tracked my friends, tweeted about the race, texted with Holly about our Eugene strategy and dreamed of the day I would be in Boston to run from Hopkinton to Boylston Street. I have never been more inspired, excited or anxious to race. I could barely sit still all day thinking about my race in 2 short weeks, hoping that it would be my road to Boston.
Then the news came. And it was the lowest of the lows. It was heartbreaking, and as I know for so many of us in the running community, it hit very close to home. I just couldn’t understand. Still don’t. Why? Why anyone would or could do this to innocent people, celebrating their loved one’s personal accomplishments and the strength, resilience and toughness that the marathon embodies. For the remainder of the week, I walked around with my head spinning. I packed. I ran. I worked. I said final goodbyes to friends. But I felt detached. I felt empty, like there was a hole in my soul after seeing and hearing what was intentionally done to this community. My heart still hurts for what happened and I still am struggling with the evil and cruelty of two human being toward others. It just isn’t something I can digest. I am only comforted by the beautiful words I have read by others and by the love, support and feeling of togetherness in the running community that has resulted in this tragedy. And I know that now, more than ever, I want to be in Boston in 2014.
And now my house is packed and my whole life sits on wheels making its way from my old home to my new one.
My heart breaks for what we are leaving behind but soars for what we are heading toward. I suppose, as with all things in life, one door must close for another to open. I know one thing for certain: we will take away memories and friendships from this beautiful city that will last a lifetime.
And now as I head toward my new life, I am eagerly and not-so-patiently awaiting what I hope will be the next high on this emotional roller coaster…the Eugene Marathon. 9 days.