I had arrived in Conyers on Friday morning, and spent a lovely day visiting with friends and family, so I was well rested by this morning. Got up at the crack of dawn, dressed and headed downtown early, so I would be able to find a decent parking spot. I had decided to park at the Lindbergh Marta station, and ride Marta over to Lenox Square.
Coming out of the train station was surreal. I felt like I was in some kind of fog, like I couldn't actually be doing this...for real...right? But I was. There was still a tinge of darkness to the light, but the day had dawned bright and clear, and the air was crisp and cool...perfect for a run.
Heading up Lenox Rd. toward the staging area for my time group (#3), I was reminded of how many memories this area holds for me....beginning with my earliest shopping excursions with my aunt as a child, when the mall was still an open shopping center...through my first marriage, and my second...working at Hertz in the J.W. Marriott with Bill as Valet Manager for the hotel....later working for Lieben just a few blocks away....and even later still...working for London Livery just a block away. It can't be 40 years I've been walking down this street...but it has been.
Time Group 3's staging area just happened to be located on Lenox Rd., right before you get to Peachtree, so I didn't have far to walk. I could hear the helicopters already busy hovering overhead...both police and news copters. That made for even more excitement permeating the air, but also caused problems a bit later on when we had trouble hearing the announcements over the loudspeakers. Here, you can see one I caught hovering over the J.W. Marriott.I had made sure to eat a good breakfast before I left the house...not too much, but enough to give me the fuel I would need to run six miles. I had also brought my trusty bottle of water, which I can't seem to run without for feeling positively naked. But I was also desperately trying NOT to drink out of it until the race actually started, for fear that the need for a porta-potty would hit me as soon as we took off. Not so much from water, mind...as from nerves. Fortunately, I was able to avail myself of a fresh, clean potty before I got to the staging area, and did not need to go again until I got back home. Once the actual race began, a potty was the last thing on my mind. Still...it was good to know we had so many available to us.
Once at the staging area, there was nothing to do but wait, since our start time was still an hour away. The time was spent to good use stretching, fidgeting with my phone to get the 'right' running music playing, and generally getting mentally into the zone. Then there was nothing t
o do but sit in the street and wait for our group to be moved up. I wound up striking up conversations with the two ladies seated here, and ran half the race with the one in pink. Unfortunately, I never learned her name, nor she, mine. A terrible oversight, to be sure...she was really nice. 
Hearing the national anthem being sung around the corner, and watching a huge Air Force plane go by overhead in honor, was incredibly nerve-wracking, as it meant that we were only moments away from our start. So, we took deep breaths and stood up. Finally, it was our group's turn to make our way to the start line, and they began to move us up Lenox Rd, and around the corner onto Peachtree, toward the starting line. Here, you can see Time Group #4 across the intersection, waiting their turn. Time Group #5, which my cousin Mark was running in, was staged to the right of the pic.This was probably the most nerve-wracking
moment of the whole thing...it was like when you first get into the car on a roller coaster, and the car actually leaves the station with you belted in...you know there's no turning back now. I don't remember ever being so excited...or so scared! Here, you can see the HUGE American flag suspended from a crane. That's the actual starting line, but I was that far back in our pack. I had to hold the camera above my head to take this pic.Then, before I knew it, we got the green light, and we were off!
The first mile or so, we were still packed tightly, and because of that, we really walked/trotted more than we ran. But as we went, things started spreading out, and the farther we went, the easier it got. Along about the second mile marker, we passed the Cathedral of St. Phillip, an Episcopal church where, having been raised in that faith, I've spent many a midnight mass in on Christmas Eve. The priests are known to stand on the curb there and sprinkle Holy Water on the runners, so at the suggestion of one of my best friends, who coincidentally happens to be a parishoner there, I made sure to run down the right side curb in order to get liberally sprinkled. And sprinkled, I was! He got me right across the face....a blessing, to be sure, if for no other reason than it was July in Atlanta, and I was HOT!
Mile after mile, we ran, slowing or walking at each of the really big hills...of which there are several grueling ones that you don't notice when you are driving, but become unforgettable when you have to run them...and finally, I could see the turn onto Tenth Street approaching. I had set a goal of 90 minutes to finish the race, and as I turned onto Tenth Street, I checked my time. By my calculations, I only had six minutes to finish that leg. At that point, I pulled out all the stops, and FLEW. Now, by anybody else's standards, my speed is laughable. But trust me when I say that by MY standards, my feet sprouted wings. Until I saw what I THOUGHT was the finish line
up ahead. For some reason, I slowed down there, and now I really wish I hadn't, because what I thought was the finish line was really the spot where the photographers were waiting overhead to take our pics as we ran u
nder. Thus...I look like I was jogging in my pics. That's because at that particular point, I was. But no matter how slow it looks 
like I'm running, I was still running faster than my usual pace! As soon as I cleared under the 
photography bank, I realized my mistake, though, as nobody else slowed down or stopped...they just kept running full-force. About that same time, I
heard someone from the croud holler that we only had a half mile to go, and it was all downhill from there on, and although I was momentarily discouraged, I was at the same time heartened that I would not have to fight my way over any more steep grades. So once again, I picked up the pace, knowing I had only about two minutes to go that last half mile if I was going to hit my goal. That was the point where I found my true focus, and everything else blurred. I've never felt so in the zone in my life...or so alive. The feeling of flying was incredible. And as the finish line came into view at last, I did not slow. I ran faster. And faster. And faster still. I pulled out all the stops, because I knew that this was it....the moment I had worked so hard for for so long. And that this moment would never come again. As I crossed over the finish line, emotion washed over me, and I felt myself dissolve into tears. Of pride. Of accomplishment. And even at the same moment that I wished it, in this place that was only about 3 blocks from the house where I was born and raised for the first ten years of my life, I felt the overwhelming presence of my parents surrounding me, beaming down on the girl who always failed P.E. in school, and exclaiming "Well done! We're so proud of you!"
And I believe with all my heart that they are. But not nearly as proud as I am of myself. My final time: 1:28:22
I had hit my goal, with time to spare.
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