I’m having trouble describing how much nostalgia this weekend’s 10-mile run held for me. Last year at this time, each Saturday long run was a new milestone.  The first time I had run 6 miles, 8 miles, 9 miles. Each time I pushed myself to get to the start time for running with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training marathon group, I set a new record in my running life.

But the 10-mile day was a turning point. TEN MILES. I never thought it was possible. I remember running along the bay and seeing a harbor seal playing in the water near the sailboats. I ran past the tourists in Seaport Village, past the street art vendors and the homeless vets. I had to wait for the passengers as they disembarked from their ocean cruise. And when I reached the turnaround point, I didn’t know if I would be able to make it all the way back.

The last mile of the first 10-mile trek was the most tranquil, the most beautiful, the most inspiring. I was alone, jogging through the pristine parks that line the bay. Other runners passed me in the opposite direction, and I gave them the polite nod of a fellow athlete, with great pride in knowing that I was now a part of the athletic community — not an impostor.

When I finished, I sat in the car and cried. I texted friends and family: I JUST RAN TEN MILES! I was on a high that wouldn’t quit. I had a date with my boyfriend at the time, but I needed to stop into my favorite coffee shop for a celebratory muffin.

In the coffee shop sat Cute Coffee Shop Guy, reading his paper. Cute Coffee Shop Guy and I had exchanged a few conversations, and I knew he was a marathoner. When I saw his familiar face, I zoomed in.

“I JUST RAN TEN MILES!” I gushed. “ME! TEN MILES!”

Cute Coffee Shop Guy chuckled. “Wow. That’s quite an accomplishment. How do you feel?”

We talked for a few minutes, and he transformed from Cute Coffee Shop Guy to Pete, who is still a close friend. [He's a friend despite the fact that seconds after I told him about my milestone, he said, "The next big milestone that you should look forward to is when you actually run for two hours." I replied, sheepishly, "Umm. I ran ten miles. I run slower than a 12-minute mile. Thus I just ran for two hours." Pete's reply: "Oh."]

This Saturday past I re-ran the 10-mile loop with Team in Training. This time the run was easy for me. I finished quite a bit faster (well under two hours, Pete!). I felt a whole lot stronger. But I still cried a little, elated, celebrating how far I’ve come.

This nostalgia reminded me of the day I realized my business would work. A new client (who is now a regular) hired me for a brochure, signing a contract worth $750. $750!!! When it came through, I ran into my courtyard. I yelled out to my neighbor Erin, who joined me in the courtyard as I jumped up and down. “THIS IS GOING TO WORK!” I screamed. “THIS IS GOING TO WORK!” It was right before Labor Day 2007,  and that was the day I knew I could make it as a freelance writer.