Hello Spring 2026
ERA of WTF………………………joy and resistance
She’s here—Spring. We’ve already moved to daylight savings time. The sun rises early, birds are chirping, and the world feels awake. Spring is not just the season of new beginnings; it’s birthday month, a two-week celebration period, and the final stretch of training season for spring races.
This year, my goal is 6 for 26—six half marathons in 2026. This girl has a bigger dream too: 100 half marathons by 55. I need to see where six halfs this year will put me on that journey. My first half of the year will be the 26.2 True Race. This is the only half marathon in Boston, and its inaugural year, as seven years ago, the 26.2 True was a full marathon. When I got off the waitlist, I committed with a strong yes.
Today was a long Saturday run with the 26.2 crew, the pioneers and cultivators of this race. I wanted to feel the city vibe and run with them. I had planned to do 10 miles. This was a completely different energy than running alone. We met in Dorchester Center, stretching, grabbing snacks, taking photos, and building community before the run. I was one of the newcomers—they’d been training since December—but they were always welcoming. The beauty of it: I know members of this community, they know me, and this is my community.
I was curious how my body would respond. The longest run I’d done this year was seven miles, just two days ago. To prepare, I applied ointment, took anti-inflammatory pills, and brought my fuel vest. I’m not the same runner I was five or six years ago—I can’t just run. I need supports to keep my knee healthy.
We had a strong group for the 10-milers. Some ran 13 miles, others 20. At the end of the day, it’s still “you against you,” but everyone is there to support each other.
Mistake number one: I over-dressed. It was 46 degrees, and I had too many layers. Note to self. Also, this was a new running route. Everyone else was using Strava or Helyo for the route, apps I don’t use. I found myself taking pictures of their apps to follow along.
The route was complex: turn on River Street, pass the American Legion, go through Franklin Park. In theory, it shouldn’t matter—I was with the group—but the group naturally runs at different paces.
I started with them for the first mile or two. One runner chatted with me—good tempo practice: figuring out the pace I could hold for an hour while still strong. I could talk, but I was still gauging my tempo. In hindsight, I should have said, “Girl, stop talking and just run.” There’s work to do.
Eventually, I lost sight of the group and switched to interval running, embracing the uncomfortable. The route felt like an urban trail run through Dorchester, Mattapan, Hyde Park, and Roxbury—broken glass, uneven sidewalks, trash. I had to stay alert.
I missed a turn but somehow rejoined the group as they emerged from Franklin Park. That was a happy surprise. From there, less than three miles remained.
Running solo, I discovered parts of the city I’d never seen before—it was an adventure. I realized I need to fuel better; I was glad I had water and a couple of gels from before the run.
When I caught up with the group, we ran the final stretch together. Midway, I felt a sharp pain in my right knee—the one with the degenerative meniscus. I slowed down and paid attention. Thankfully, it eventually eased.
As we ran through Roxbury, the community acknowledged us. A man at a tire shop reminded us to stay hydrated, smiling and chatting as we crossed the street. Seeing us in that space mattered—small interactions with huge meaning.
Even though the run started at 8 a.m.—late for me—it was uplifting to be surrounded by community, energy, and support.
My watch showed 8.59 miles at a 13:02 pace, 1:51:55. I’ll round up to 9 miles since I likely started the watch late. It’s also a chance to check in with my body and adjust for the next run.
The race is April 18th. Three weeks to fine-tune, make adjustments, and get race-ready.
