Return to Boston

This Sunday was a little different than the past few. While a nice cup of coffee is there for sipping, my copy of Runners World is missing, and my mind begins to wander. I see my self striding along the majestic Massachusetts roads I had driven through the day before.

This weekend I was in my hometown state of Massachusetts. Saturday I spent most of the day in and around my hometown, traveling the roads of the state. I had experienced these roads many times as a child, usually with a bike. As a runner, those roads have a completely different meaning. I can see each crack, placement of dirt, and the existence of a shoulder or lack there of.

What does that road feel like under a pair of running shoes after miles gliding across them? Do the trees look like they used to from the bike perspective? Is it even safe to run on this road? All these questions and more are racing through my head. My head dreaming of how the route looks, feels and smells while my muscles are yearning to be worked to a burn.

Driving on the highway, I see the sign for Hopkinton and get a little choked up. Inevitably thoughts go to the Boston Marathon and the running history of Massachusetts. The great runners and the location of one of the most, if not the most referenced race and goal for the running community. Sentiment morphs into self pity and the NEED to qualify for the great race and immediately back to sentiment.

Those roads will find my feet. Weather it be for a easy 10 or some hardcore hill repeats I look forward to the stories you will give me in the future.

For now, Mass roads, I will just bid you a due.