That was Weather.com’s headline yesterday afternoon, and judging by the scenes of post-apocalyptic devastation in the Shaw’s eggs and dairy aisle, everyone took their instructions to heart. (In case anyone is wondering how my personal nemesis weatherman Pete Bouchard is handling the storm…not well. Thanks for the pep talk, Pete.)
But while my neighbors ransacked Kiki’s for the last stale loaf of Irish soda bread, my teammates and I started stocking up on miles. We are a dedicated bunch, but nobody’s risking life and limb to slalom down Heartbreak for our planned 15-mile run tomorrow. So instead, we got up early and started out to get our miles in before the storm hit.
I think I saw at least half the city’s running population out by the Charles this morning, wearing 17 layers of ear warmers and the same expression of grim determination I saw on the grocery shoppers lined up 6-deep when I stopped for water at 7am. But there was also this sense of fellowship – we all may be clawing each other’s eyes out over the last box of Franzia, but we’re doing it TOGETHER.
For me, at least, part of the reason I run is that sense of camaraderie in the face of looming disaster. I mean, granted, we sign up for these things (I guess in that sense we’re kind of like storm-chasers). But when you’re face something terrifying – whether it’s the prospect of running out of wine, a double-digit run in a blizzard, or an uncertain diagnosis for someone you love – it helps to know you’re not facing it alone. My mentee Jenna gave the dedication for our run last week, and talked about how when her sister was first diagnosed, Team in Training was the only place she could really go to talk about it. It’s a lucky thing in life, I think, to feel like you have even a few people who’ve got your back no matter what. With Team in Training, you have a hundred.
I am EXTRAORDINARILY lucky to have had all of you at my back for so many years. And it’s not just me – every person on my team, and every friend or family member they’re running for feels more supported because of your donation. I’ve got $1,800 to go right now – trade you a gallon of milk for a donation?
Love you more than all the eggs and beer in Boston,