My way back home.

As miles 20 and 21 fell off of my training schedule and landed where they were supposed to, neatly in the completed pile, I've been struggling with the enormity of what's next, the context for what this journey has been, what these runs are becoming [habits] and what I've learned along the way and then I heard "My Way Back Home."  My thoughts turned from the significance of a perceived moment to all that set the moment in motion and all that would likely wind it down when I was ready:

"I admit that these answers that I seek
Are all to questions I’ve never known
But I pray to keep on looking for as long as I can roam
And when the world finally fulfills me
I will not forget my way back home."

In these words I see the last year in cascading glimpses put to music and, at times, narrated by Sarah Jessica Parker; Frame by frame of flashbacks broken only by miles 20 and 21, consecutively, falling down:

October 5, 2010: Sitting on my front stoop locked out and crying in the rain, having just heard "Stress Fracture;" 

On the stationary bike at the gym at 5:30AM on a cold November morning, still Pre-Marathon 2010, tearing up and pathetically ill equipped;

Stretching with the green rubber bands at Physical Therapy every morning at 6:30AM, agility a lost art;

Alone at the gym on a Saturday morning, watching the runners pass on Market Street below, pushing painfully away at the peddles on an elliptical machine;

Sidelined;

My first run back: five blocks in December so full of pain that the snow melted against it;

Crossing the finish line of my first 5K in February, nearly puking in an elementary school bathroom, finishing with burning lungs and the ultimate realization that, although I declared victory, there was a long road yet to travel;

The Broad Street Run 2011 without pain and full of hope for another personal best the following year; 

A PB at the ODDyssey half marathon over the Summer 2011;

Training Day #1;

Return visits to the Rothman Institute for an ankle that resisted the new training regimen;

Bouncing back from a terrible half marathon at Pennypack Park;  

Ticking 14, 15 and 16 mile runs off in the heat of August with focus on a cooler Fall;

Icing, wrapping, tiger-balming joints and elevating sore limbs;

Xtend Barre Pilates entering my life for the fun in the middle of the serious;

October 21, 2011 hitting like the Atlantic Ocean in January: 30 days; and

All of the aches, pains, tears, high fives, cramps, trips, scrapes and deep breaths along the way back home to the fearless woman with the unbreakable spirit that woke up one day and decided she was going to run a marathon.  And did.