This Sunday, I will attempt to set my PB in my 8th marathon. Thank you, my sons for this incredible journey.

My running journey has two parts. Before and after. The old era and the new one.

I’ve always enjoyed running. Now and then, my Facebook feed shows me a “memory,” and it’s about running. Like today — I was shown my post from exactly ten years ago. It was our final year in Moscow. We then emigrated to America. I had a treadmill at my house, just outside of Moscow.

“No better way to start a day/morning,” I posted in Russian and shared this image:

Looking at this post today, I thought, “Not bad!”. These days I think in miles, not kilometers, so out of curiosity, I converted the numbers on my treadmill from this image ten years ago into miles/minute pace.

Not bad!

But this was “before.” The word “enthusiast” comes to mind. I was a running enthusiast.

I ran my first marathon in Moscow in the summer of 2008, shortly after completing my MBA. Four hours something. A fucking nightmare. I hit the wall after thirty kilometers and suffered. I was twenty eight years old.

I then ran marathons in Athens and Rome. I traveled to these races with my close friend. Our families were with us. It was a mini vacation. I ran in just…