Boston 2013

Marathon Monday started out beautifully. The weather was perfect - 40s in the morning warming to low-to-mis-50s during the day. There was hardly a breeze, a few clouds in the sky; truly perfect marathoning weather. Of course, I thought, the weather is perfect because I'm not racing this year.

Scott had to work all day but I had the day off from Miss J, so the kids and I headed to Mile 19 in Newton. It's out in the 'burbs with grass and trees lining the course, so there's room to spread out on the curb and let the kids play on the grass. Bruce and Phoebe snacked, watched DVDs, played with other kids, and petted lots of dogs while I watched the elite women, then elite men, then waves and waves of runners pass.

Honestly, I felt a little sulky. I was already a little jealous of the nice weather, then to watch something so inspiring while sitting in a lawn chair 28 pounds heavier than a year ago - it just felt weird. I wanted to be running down that yellow line in the middle of the road, not sitting at the sideline. Don't get me wrong: I wasn't feeling regret, just longing. Hopefully the longing that will get me back into shape someday soon.

I had lots of people to cheer for - Anna Novick (my long-time running partner who still puts up with my slow pregnant 5-mile runs every morning!), Emili Lawson Smith (former BYU XC teammate and next-door locker neighbor while a Cougar), Carolyn Quebe Williams (also a former BYU teammate who now lives in Boston), Darcee Burnett (former member of the church congregation we went to while we lived in Arlington and super-inspiring person), and the dozen or so runners wearing Greater Boston Track Club singlets.

I positioned myself beyond the 30K (18.6 miles) timing mats but before the 19-mile marker and kept checking my phone for text message alerts of my runners. Emili was the first to go by - according to my text anyway. Unfortunately I never saw her; huge crowds were streaming by and it occurred to me that I should have asked her what she was going to wear. Oops. Anna came by next, but I missed her too; I think I might have been changing Phoebe's DVD or something at that point. I was bummed about that because I had a bunch of signs made up and a waterbottle to hand to her. I did see Carolyn and Darcee, but I'm not sure they heard me in the sea of spectators.

I sat and sulked a little longer, watching runners and clutching my phone waiting for text updates. Anna went on to run a near-perfectly paced race in a PR of 2:56. Victory! Emili came in at 3:06, Carolyn at 3:24, and Darcee at 3:27. Once everyone crossed the line, I packed up the kids and headed home. When I walked in the door, I got a phone call.

"Emily, are you okay?" My sister-in-law called. I thought she was just being nice and understanding of my sulky pregnant-runner status, so I started whining about my sulky sidelined morning. She gave me the news and my phone started buzzing with texts and incoming calls.

I reassured everyone that I hadn't gone to the finish line this year (I have in the past, and was toying with the idea of meeting up downtown with runners afterward, but decided against it being pregnant/lazy and not wanting to chase two kids around crowds of people), then started making texts and calls of my own. All of my GBTC teammates, their families, and my friends that I tracked were all out of the finish area when the bombs went off. I confirmed that everyone was okay, then followed the news for the rest of the day trying to make sense of it all. I still can't make sense of it.

If anything, this event has only stoked my desire to race the marathon even more. I've been thinking of a Boston Marathon return in 2015 because it will give me ample time to build up mileage and get fast post-baby, but now I'm eager to be part of the marathon in 2014 even if I am not in top shape. I'm not sure it's realistic; I have to re-qualify (my 2012 time will be considered too old for the 2014 registration requirement) and registration is in September (a month after having a baby?!), but there are back door methods of getting in (charity, waivers, etc.) so there's still a chance.

I would just love to run down Boylston Street as my own personal flip-of-the-bird to terrorism. You can't run me out of Boston! I will run you out.

In 2014 if I can.

In 2015 for sure.

5-minute Shower

And this is what happens when I put Bruce in front of the TV and Phoebe in front of a tub of toys for five minutes while I take a shower. Bruce was completely oblivious. Phoebe apparently got bored with the toys, found the banana bread that I'd made for a school potluck (and put on the bench by the door so I wouldn't forget - oops), and spent a few minutes digging her fingers through it and eating the chocolate chips out of it.

School's In!

School has officially started. Bruce had orientation earlier this week where we toured the school (hula hoops in the gym! sweet-o playground!) and got to know the teachers. Today was the first real day, though, when I could drop him off and leave. I've heard lots of moms describe their meltdowns and tears after this momentous occasion, but that was not my experience. I gave Bruce a hug (although he was looking in the other direction, distracted by the train tracks and Legos) and walked to a park, where I pushed Phoebe in a swing for awhile. Once she was thoroughly tired, we came home and she took an uninterrupted nap while I caught up on emails and resumed the job hunt. Then I went grocery shopping - just me and Phoebe - which was a very nice change, especially after this experience...
Scott's birthday was earlier this week. We made him a German chocolate cake complete with cholesterol, but we didn't have his gift ready for him. We picked it up yesterday, along with a couple jars of baby food, at Walmart. You know how they have those rotating bag-o-matics that are just so fun to spin? While I was paying, Bruce couldn't help himself and he gave it a good spin. My bags went flying in all directions and I spent the next few minutes cleaning up glass and pureed chicken-broccoli-whatever baby food off all my other purchases while repeating the phrase, "I will not get angry." Thankfully, I'd tucked Scott's gift in my diaper bag, so it escaped the baby food disaster.

We got Scott an iPod Touch. It is so cool that it deserves its own blog post, so that's all I'm saying about that just now.

A Story About Bruce

Lately, Bruce wants to wear Scott's ties to church. He's too sophisticated for his clip-on ties now.
But these pictures have nothing to do with the story. I was not carrying my camera at the time; and even if I was, I still wouldn't have had an extra hand to take a picture. But if I did, I would have a picture of a metal box mounted to a wall next to a crusty urine-scented elevator. On the box is a "help" button - a little ironic here.

Bruce, Phoebe, and I ventured out to get a birthday present for Bruce's friend. We took the train and were planning on going to a bookstore. We got off the train, exited through the turnstiles, and strolled over to the elevator. Bruce pushed the "up" button on the elevator and then, almost like he were dancing, turned around and smacked his head on the help button box. His head hit the corner and Bruce buckled at the knees. His face was mangled with pain, and he was drawing that big long breath before letting out a long sob. There was blood coming out of the spot where he bumped his head. It wasn't gushing, but it was oozing.

The elevator came and the doors opened.

A man selling popcorn a few feet away grabbed a cold Mountain Dew out of his fridge and offered it for Bruce's head. I picked Bruce up and tried to hold the pop can to his head, but that made him freak out more. Thanks, I tell the guy. He lets me keep the bloody pop can.

I carry Bruce into the elevator while somehow also pushing Phoebe's stroller. We get up to street level and luckily, Bruce's primary care doctor is less than a block away from this train station. I walk, carrying a sobbing Bruce and pushing Phoebe. We cause quite a scene: some random guy tells me that Bruce's head is bleeding and everyone is looking at us.

We make it up to Bruce's doctor's office. I plop Bruce on the receptionist's desk and tell her we don't have an appointment, but that we'd like to see a doctor right away. A nurse comes out and pushes the stroller back into a patient room while we follow, telling our story along the way. She brings the doctor in.

Bruce is terrified that he is going to get a shot for some reason, so he starts sobbing harder. I tell Bruce to give me a big hug while the doctor cleans his head off with water. She cleans up his wound and says that normally she would put steri-strips on, but it would require shaving part of his head and he was already so traumatized that perhaps the best thing to do would be to just keep it clean for the next day or two and let it heal. She gives me a couple wads of gauze, a prescription for ice cream, and tells me not to shampoo his hair for awhile. Bruce is glad.

We get his ice cream and go sit outside to eat it. Bruce's head is oozing again, so I get out the gauze and clean up his wound while some curious - and probably grossed out - onlookers gawk. Bruce feels better, so we head to the bookstore to get the gift.

Bruce picked out an airplane, which he played with all the way home. We have yet to wrap it and actually take it to his friend. Before I wrap it, I'll be sure to clean the blood off.