I'm an ass.

About a year and a half ago, my friend's husband was trying to qualify for Boston. Dude is seriously awesome. Like, Ironman awesome. Anyway, I ran a half the same day and watched the remainder of his race...my friends was tracking him on her phone. As we saw him come around the final stretch, we could see he was going to be close.

He missed it by 2 seconds. 2. There are sneezes that take longer than that. He was pissed. We were pissed for him.

Fast forward to a couple of weeks ago. Same friend and hubby and various other imaginary runner friends got together for dinner. Toward the end of the evening, friend's hubby and I got to chatting...about running in general, what our training has been lately, and what races we're thinking of doing this year. I blurt out, "I'm running Boston!." He excitedly asked me about qualifying. I felt like Ralphie when he blurted out fffffuuuuuuuuddddggggeeee. All I could think was "ah shit." I told him I didn't qualify. I got a charity bib. I called the next day to apologize.

Here I am training for Boston, and by no means deserve it. And there he is, who TOTALLY deserves it and isn't going. Yeah. I'm an ass. A lucky, undeserving ass. So anytime I don't feel like running, I think of Eric and how I owe it to him, and all the others who came so close. And I go run.