Saturday morning I went for a run with two friends.
After covering the horrific events that unfolded last week, I was tired, raw around the edges, and still in complete shock.
To some of my friends, it seemed crazy I'd want to run a day after putting in a ridiculously long day (not nearly as long as law enforcement and other officials had worked), and I couldn't explain why I needed to run, but I just knew that I had to run.
So, two girlfriends and I met up for an easy four miles. Speed didn't matter to me. The route mattered even less. I just needed to get out and feel my legs under me since I've spent much of my time since last Monday feeling mostly shaky and numb.
We chatted about upcoming races, about rock climbing, about being on lockdown during the manhunt, and about our relationships.
I don't know if my friends knew it or not, but just their showing up to run with me propped me up and helped me feel whole.
We also chatted about my desire -- or need depending on my mood -- to run Boston next year.
It was the first time all week I felt half-way human again.
That easy four-mile run with friends reinforced that I run not just for health or because it makes me feel good -- but because runners are inexplicably part of my extended family.
No one is allowed to hurt my family in any way.
So, when I got home from my jaunt with the girls (and after several cups of good coffee and more chit-chat later), I did the only logical thing in my head: Contact the race director for my half-marathon in October and asked to upgrade to the full marathon.
I haven't given up training for my triathlon (my strength days in my marathon plan will now just be filled with biking or swimming).
I have six months to train for this marathon in October, and while some may think I'm legitimately crazy, I know I need to do this because it will help me get stronger.
Because now, that's what we all have to do somehow, just figure out a way to get stronger.
This is my way.