The Jolly 17'ers

Saturday was a clear, crisp morning for running, and run I did--17 miles with the DFMC crew. 

I spent the first mile chatting with 2nd-time DFMC marathoner Megan, celebrating this year with her dad's five year anniversary of being cancer-free (colon), and also his 60th birthday. Miles 2-3 were solitary miles, my mind wandering where it will. (Often it wanders in the direction of the smell of fresh coffee, but that's neither here, nor there...more's the pity.) Miles 4-6 were spent chatting with Beth, who lives surprisingly near me. Beth also works for Dana-Farber, and is in charge of the DFMC designs, including cards and singlets. I was dying to ask her what this year's would look like, but saving myself the thrill of anticipation, I resisted. Barely. Miles 7-8.5ish were again solitary miles, and it was with a slight sense of dread that I found myself at the bottom of "Grossman's Hill." Slugging along behind an elderly teammate, though, I found that, well, it just wasn't as hard as I had thought it was. Do I blame Derry? Not sure. Either way, the hill went smoothly, with my legs feeling strong, carrying me to the top with no trouble. 

At the top, enough energy left for a smile for my other half and his fellow volunteers, I took a brief break for some Gatorade and pomegranate Luna chews. The first mile back was partly solitary, partly spent with Jeff and Jenny. Jeff and I had also shared a quick chat during the hills at Derry, as he chugged along up them, and I power-walked myself up and over. 

The remainder of the miles were spent with this pair, chatting about the miles to come. Both of them are running Boston 2009 for the first time. It will also be their first marathon. Until Saturday, Jenny had never run more than the distance of a half marathon, 13.1 miles. As soon as we got past that, Jeff and I made sure to remind her that at that point, every step was another victory. She hardly needed our encouragement, though, as the three of us finished the run strong. 

After a quick shower and snack (provided by our extremely generous running host, the Mount Auburn Athletic Club), I jumped into the car with Jared and we headed for Vermont for some wedding location shopping. Now, it's tea, and what's truly a pitiful attempt on my part to pretend that I'm watching the Super Bowl. (I mean really, where's the basket? It doesn't make any sense.) 

Side Note: The Jolly 17'ers are the name of a sort of social club that my paternal Grandmother (Anne) belongs to. The only requirement? You had to be born in 1917. This large group of women would write a round-robin letter, with each woman adding a paragraph or two, then mailing it on to the next woman on the list. The letter would go from one person to the next, round and round, and each recipient would receive a long, newsy letter, with bits from everyone else on the list. Every few years, the group would plan a reunion, with the group of them putting on funny skits and shows for each other. It is with sadness that my grandmother has had to see this group of friends, that she has made and had for many decades of her life, as age and sickness claims them one by one. She, however, is lucky, as she is a well-loved woman, by her family, and I am certain, by all the remaining "Jolly 17'ers."