What a gorgeous day we had to run a half-marathon! Crisp, dry, sunny, lush foliage everywhere, and flowers–I especially noticed irises. Unlike on my training runs, I did not stop to take pictures. It wasn’t an easy run for me, but I enjoyed it. I appreciated the support from onlookers. Kids giving high-fives, singers, drummers, small ensembles, locals, tourists, friends of various runners. They stretched along all 13.1 miles of the run, from Woodstock to Quechee. Hundreds of race volunteers made the day easy for us runners (if not painless, ha!).

As I set out, it occurred to me that each of us in that crowd of thousands of runners was running our own race. For me, it was a run, not a race. My only goal was to finish. Other runners had different goals. I don’t know what they were but I imagine they included to win, to place high in their age bracket, to better their time vs. a previous race, to accompany a friend, to support a charity (I did that in previous races) or just to enjoy the Vermont scenery.

Whatever the case, my daughter and I figured we’d justified a steak-and-cheese sub and chips. Maybe not the best post-run food, but we had no regrets. Her three little ones met us at home with  ice water and cold, wet cloths. That evening, when they’d all left and the house was quiet, I sat up in bed and read. Today I’m writing, working on Stone Bridges, my next Swift River Valley novel, and brainstorming a title for my next Sharpe and Donovan novel. I came up with lots of possibilities on my long training runs. It’s in the forties and raining at the moment. I’m glad it wasn’t like this yesterday! I’m about to light a fire in the wood stove…