The other day an SUV passed me while driving on the Mass Pike, the woman in the passenger seat was giving me the thumbs up. I didn't know why until they pulled in front, but saw the sticker on the bumper, 26.2. While this means nothing to anyone who doesn't run, for those of us that do, this is a major accomplishment and source of pride. I began running 7 years ago, near the end of my marriage. Running saved me, relieving the major stressors that come with the break up of a marriage. It took me a while to be able to run a full mile, my lungs had been clear of smoke for years but still didn't function as well as a non smoker's. Flash forward five years, I am ready to race and I choose a full marathon for my first (probably not recommended.) I had never run that far before and my training runs were at the longest 20 miles. But that day in October, in Hartford CT, I did it. I completed 26.2 miles. I am not a natural athlete, I skipped gym class in high school, smoked and drank throughout my early twenties, and when I hit 35 ran 26.2 miles. So I have the sticker on the car, and only a runner knows how much work those three little numbers mean. So when I pass a car with the sticker I always smile to myself. We are connected through our commonality, our love of this sport, the work and dedication it takes to be able to place the sticker on your car. We can be from completely different walks of life, but there is a connection. Thank you for that connection.