It’s the day after…the marathon that is. It wasn’t very pretty. When I say that, I mean that it took me 6:25 to cover 26.2 miles. To put it more precisely, I ran my first marathon in 1999 in 4:28! But I have to say, I think this race might go down as one of those moments, the kind you are marked by. Nevermind that I’m having a bit of trouble walking normallyJ!

Yesterday was a beautiful Chicago day. My brother Mark came out from Maine to be here for the marathon - and for Steve. And Steve was able to come down, in spite of how rough chemo has been. So they both came down yesterday morning to cheer me on. Mark met me at mile 13 and kept me company for about 3.5 miles.

One of the pictures that is stuck in my head is coming around the corner at Jackson onto Halsted in Greektown (which if you know my brother Steve’s love for Greek Islands, is entirely appropriate!).

Suddenly in front of me is my 6’5” brother Steve, holding up a LIVESTRONG banner cheering for people he didn’t know, who he saw in yellow LIVESTRONG shirts, cheering them on as they ran their own marathon that I think would pale in comparison to the one he is running.

I had a tag on the back of my shirt as I ran…walked…

At one point, a girl ran past me and said, “Your brother would be proud!” She was being sweet and kind and encouraging. But I wanted to shout, “Wait, he is proud…it isn’t past tense!” And so I kept going. To prove somehow that this story isn’t done. No matter how it ends, it isn’t done. It is being written still.

I am learning to share my own story, to revel in the aching comfort it is to have people draw near and walk/run with me. I run to be with my brother. And people gave money generously and cheered me on yesterday and checked in on me to “run” with me. And life is richer and more hopeful and bearable and joyful because I don’t run alone. Even if at times I would prefer that. So thank you. Those words are entirely insufficient but necessary. Thank you for not leaving me or my brother to run alone. I will be forever grateful.