Hi Everyone!
Huge congrats to Madalyn who ran the Run4Hope 5K and came first woman and third overall! Also so close to cracking the 20 min mark – sub-20 is right around the corner. Coming up, we have the Boston Marathon! From our group we have: Gillian, Fran, Amanda, Annick, Laura, Cindy, Lori, Carolyn, Jon, Elizabeth and Myself. Please let me know if I’ve left anyone out – it is my gappy brain and doesn’t mean I don’t love, care or think about you.
Speaking of Boston, we have a guest post by Fran (thank-you Fran!)
At 55 years old, I’m about to run the Boston Marathon for the very first time. Even as I type that sentence, it doesn’t quite feel real. I’ve been a lifelong runner—lacing up my shoes in every season, chasing personal bests, and collecting race bibs and memories from 10 marathons and countless half marathons. But Boston? Boston has always been the dream.
For years, I watched others achieve what felt just out of reach for me. I run with many incredibly talented friends who seem to qualify for Boston without fail. They make it look so easy (I know it is not). They would share stories of Heartbreak Hill, bad weather, the electric crowds on Boylston Street, and that special magic that only Boston holds. I cheered for them in person and from afar, full of admiration—but also with a quiet ache in my heart. I was happy for them, truly, but I couldn’t help but wonder if I’d ever join them.
Qualifying for Boston didn’t come easily. I’ve come up short every single time (I hit the qualifying time once before, but didn’t have enough buffer to make the final cut). Each missed cut-off time stung, especially when I had poured everything I had into the race. There were moments of self-doubt where I thought maybe I wasn’t meant to get there. But I kept going. Because that’s what runners do—we keep chasing, even when the finish line feels far away.
And now, here I am. Heading to Boston. No longer an outsider looking in.
What’s most powerful to me isn’t just crossing the finish line (though, trust me, I’ll be savouring every step down Boylston). It’s joining a community I’ve admired for so long. It’s finally stepping into the world of runners who have inspired me endlessly—and realizing I belong here, too.
And yes, I’ll say it: I cannot wait to wear that Boston Marathon jacket. For years I’ve seen others wear theirs with pride—at races, in airports, and on Wednesday morning Lakeshore runs. It’s more than just a jacket; it’s a symbol of perseverance, of grit, of having earned your way to one of the most iconic start lines in the world. I’ve dreamed of owning one for so long, and soon, I will be wearing my own.
To my LES crew—thank you. Your journeys lit the path for mine. Your encouragement helped me believe, even when it was hard. And you make it all so much darn fun.
I’m not running Boston to prove anything or to hit a certain time goal. I’m running to celebrate the persistence, the resilience, and the deep love I have for this community and this sport. I’m running to honour the years it took to get here and to show that it’s never too late to chase a dream.
Boston, I’ll see you at the start line.
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