Chapter 1: Race Day Reflections

I stand a little distance from the starting line, feeling a mix of anticipation and nerves. The bib I collected yesterday is securely attached to my tank top, my shoelaces are tightly fastened, and my hair is neatly tied back, topped with my cherished Boston Red Sox cap. Two six-ounce water bottles are strapped around my waist, while a slice of English muffin with peanut butter settles in my stomach, stirring with excitement.

Surrounded by fellow runners, some chatting quietly and others focused inward, I feel the familiar rush of adrenaline. My chest tightens, and tears well up as I share in the collective energy of our shared passion for running. Today's challenge is a 9.3-mile race known as the Boilermaker, drawing a crowd of 20,000 participants, including elite athletes lured by enticing prize money.

The race's name, I learned, comes from its long-time sponsor, the Utica Radiator Corporation, a fun local tidbit that makes me feel connected to the event. This race is special to me for many reasons; each finisher receives a unique glass with the race logo, and I’ve proudly collected six. Unlike other courses, this one is filled with enthusiastic spectators who cheer, hand out popsicles, and ring cowbells, creating a vibrant atmosphere. Neighborhoods compete for the best cheering section, showcasing their community spirit through music and creativity.

9.3 miles strikes a perfect balance for me. It's long enough to feel significant but short enough not to be intimidating like a half marathon. As I prepare for the race, I remove my cap and hold it close while the National Anthem resonates through the crowd. The airhorn signals the start, and after some time waiting in the seeding area, I finally cross the start line.

My playlist, curated a week prior, is ready. The upbeat tunes of Justin Timberlake’s "Can’t Stop the Feeling," Rihanna's "Work," and Calvin Harris's "This is What You Came For" set the tone for the first two miles. My body and mind synchronize, and I feel an exhilarating freedom as I tackle the first hill at the golf course. I notice some runners falling behind, and my inner competitor relishes the challenge.

As I reach the top of the hill, "My House" by Flo Rida energizes me further. I continue to smile as I navigate the following miles, pausing briefly to enjoy a popsicle handed to me by a child. I pour water over my head to cool off in the sweltering heat, relishing the moment despite the guilt of littering.

As I approach the notorious Heartbreak Hill, I feel the weight of the climb. This is not my first time confronting this challenge; I've conquered it before. The playlist includes a song chosen for this moment, Phil Collins's "In the Air Tonight," with its iconic drum beats syncing perfectly with my footsteps.

Despite the heat, dehydration, and the blister forming on my heel, I refuse to walk or pause for a break. Trusting my body and my training, I push forward, feeling powerful. Crossing the finish line, I hear my name announced and the cheers of the crowd, a moment that fills me with pride.

A Farewell to Running

I gaze at the seven Boilermaker glasses displayed in my cabinet with a sense of accomplishment. Once, I insisted that only I could drink from them for fear of breaking one; now, I share them freely.

My last Boilermaker was in 2016. After suffering from injuries that left me in pain, I stepped away from running. Balancing motherhood with two young children and my work life made my commitment to running feel daunting. As I tried to climb the ladder of life in my mid-thirties, it felt as though everything was slipping away.

With every race and practice, I improved. I grew stronger and faster, and my efforts felt rewarding during a period when I often doubted my worth as a mother, friend, partner, and professional. I initially ignored my injuries, fearing the loss of my identity as a runner, but eventually, it became unbearable. I can’t recall my last run.

I long for the thrill of running through the toughest parts of a race and the joy of treating myself to coffee after a long Saturday run.

Chapter 2: Embracing a New Normal

The video titled "I used to quit a lot...and I'm not proud of it" explores the challenges of perseverance and self-improvement. It resonates with my journey, reminding me that even when faced with setbacks, there are always opportunities to rise again.

The Morning Walk

As the sunlight peeks through my bedroom shades, I feel the weight of exhaustion without having had a drink the night before. The past months have been overwhelming, and as my teenage daughters navigate their own struggles—one with anxiety and the other with middle school dynamics—I find myself feeling helpless.

We’re selling a house we’ve lived in for two decades and trying to fix up another that feels haunted. My job demands more than I can give, and I often find myself crying in solitude.

On this chilly March morning, I lace up my running shoes—purchased from my local store, even though I won’t run today. Despite the forecast of rain, I carry on, embodying the spirit of a “retired runner.”

The rain starts gently before becoming a heavy downpour, soaking my shoes. I miss my Red Sox cap, stored away during the move along with race memorabilia. I embrace the solitude of the gravel trail that rises slightly, just enough to make me break a sweat. The surrounding pine trees shield me from the rain, and I take pride in my determination as a casual walker.

I create a Spotify playlist entitled "Pumped Up," listening with one earbud to stay aware of my surroundings. As AC/DC’s "Thunderstruck" plays, I put in the other earbud and turn up the volume, singing along.

With each step, I feel inspired. The music reminds me that while life may feel chaotic and unpredictable, there’s always a new ladder to climb, even if it looks different than before. I can set new goals and find fresh ways to take pride in myself, supported by the power of music.

Copyright Melissa Marietta

Another story about my walking journey:

I Almost Killed My Friend: It’s the Best Gift I’ve Ever Given.