I thought I would wake up with a laurel crown, with a proud chest, held high, and a new strength in my stride. I had been training for this for months, put in lots and lots of miles, dragged myself out when I was cold, bored, tired, sick of it, but I did. I showed up. And on Sunday my legs showed up for me. People keep telling me it's amazing, what I did, and so fast! So consistent, so strong, and yet I feel blank, sad even, humbled. How could I have lived so long with so little faith in myself. So little belief in what I could do, what I could accomplish? But did I accomplish anything? Really? My world has been turned upside down. Broken down, rebuilt. In this moment 6 men are under my house, jacking up my foundation, tearing out the 80 year old wood, installing stronger, longer, thicker beams, tougher bolts, bringing us up to 2012 code. I sit here, watching the bubble shift to plumb, and the cracks buckling in the walls, the base boards separating from the floor, the creaking, shifting, earthquake noises, clanging, banging and sawing, and I realize the insignificance of this thing that I built up so much in my mind. So much of how I live is in my vast and vacant mind. Whole universes reside there, I break them down, build them up, fret over them, make myself sick with judgement, concern, fear. and yet, when they come to pass, you would think I learned a lesson once in a while, they always turn out to be less than I expected, less than I worried about, like the kid in a monster suit, harmless, toothless, funny even. For a smart girl, I have a block of wood for a brain. Oh to live free, without all this noise. To break it down, and see it for what it is, a long run, a sunday morning spent with strangers, a small achievement, not to be made grand, but not to be dismissed.