Gratitude

I'm walking across the Beacon Street overpass near Fenway. There's absolutely nothing attractive about this overpass. The barrier walls are cement topped with wire; the Mass Pike is below.

I ran across this overpass during the Boston Marathon a few years ago. I remember looking up at the Citgo sign and feeling --- not knowing, but feeling --- that the finish line was near. I had never seen the Citgo sign before that day. There were strong winds and few crowds on the overpass. I ran through the tunnel of wind and then descended into a tunnel of noise as the crowds got bigger and bigger close to Copley Square. I picked up a little speed, as much as I possibly could.

I ran that day with a pinched nerve and I finished. I've liked the overpass ever since. And I've crossed it many times in late night runs.

Today, I'm walking quickly. And I stop. I stop and I stand there. Because I'm grateful. I'm grateful for finishing that Marathon. I'm grateful for all my body does and for all that I put it through. On Monday, I'll start training again for a 10K. And I've never had to give it a second thought. I know I can run.

I'm grateful to this piece of concrete that always reminds me of the power of my body and the sheer force of my will.

And I'm grateful to Boston for giving me this moment.