In the finish chute at 2014 Victoria Marathon, where I qualified for Boston Marathon--and where I felt I was blitzing along. Not so sure this photo captures the "blitzing."

In the finish chute at 2014 Victoria Marathon, where I qualified for Boston Marathon–and where I felt I was blitzing along. Not so sure this photo captures the “blitzing” part.

I’m very precise about time: Ask me how long it takes to drive to my twins’ elementary school, and I’ll tell you 8 minutes. Not 5, not 10, but 8. (Okay, sometimes 9 if we hit too many red lights.) My alarm clock for barre class is set for 5:31 a.m. because if I get up at 5:30, I have a tad bit too much time to putter around before heading to class.

It’s not surprising, then, that I was overjoyed when my finish time at 2014 Victoria Marathon was 3:56:54. When I found out, I blurted out, “Oh, thank GOODNESS it wasn’t 3:57!” Oh, come on, we’re only talking 6 seconds.

But I knew: When it comes to qualifying for Boston Marathon, every second counts. Really and truly. As I approached the finish line in B.C. last October, I was keenly aware of this fact. I knew Dimity’s husband, like many Boston qualifiers, had been shut out of getting an entry to Boston because he hadn’t qualified with a wide-enough margin.

Here’s how I broke it down to my mother yesterday on the phone: Think of each age/gender category as a glass. Once Boston Marathon race registration opens, the glass–in my case, females age 50-54–starts to fill with women runners who qualified by 20 minutes or more. Then gals who beat the qualifying time by 10 minutes or more gain entry, then 5 minutes or more. Finally, if the glass isn’t full yet, the race organizers let in those of us who qualified by less than 5 minutes. The system isn’t first-come, first-serve, however: A runner who qualified with a 4-minute cushion gets admitted before someone who finished with 2 minutes to spare.

A screenshot is worth a thousand words: the breakdown from the Boston Athletic Association

A screenshot is worth a thousand words: the breakdown from the Boston Athletic Association

Past history told us runners we needed to do better than just beat our BQ time by a few seconds: To get into the 2015 Boston Marathon, qualifiers needed to be 1 minute, 2 seconds or faster for their age group and gender, while the year before, 2014 Boston Marathoners needed to be 1 minute, 38 seconds or faster for their age group and gender.

Like I said: Every second counts. Even more so for entry to the 2016 Boston Marathon: This year’s line in the proverbial sand is 2:28. Two minutes, 28 seconds. Which means I squeaked in with just 38 seconds to spare. (Which makes me repeat silently: “Thank goodness it wasn’t 3:57!”)

Another case of cutting it close on time: Within the first 10 seconds after hearing my ankle fracture, as I lay prostrate on wet bark chips at the base of the Big Red Wagon slide, I thought, “I didn’t bust my hump qualifying for Boston to not run be able to run the race.” Since that moment on May 1, my motivating mantra has been: Boston 2016. In the early stages of my healing process, when I allowed my thoughts to go dark, I thought my ankle fractures (yes, plural) wouldn’t allow me to run 26.2 miles next year. Then, by following doctor’s orders, taking care of myself, and devotedly doing physical therapy, I knew my body would most likely handle the challenge–if I could get into the race. A big if.

The text sharing good news--and bad.

The text sharing good news–and bad.

I learned I gained a coveted spot in a bittersweet way: a friend and fellow mother runner who qualified by 1 minute, 45 seconds texted me as I pulled into our driveway after morning carpool. I was in; she was out. My heart hurt for her. She and I had employed the same talented, compassionate coach to help us reach our respective Boston-qualifying dreams. I just happened to be in the next age bracket up, and had a slightly larger qualifying margin, but we’d both pushed to our limits and run our very best races.

While I’m very happy and proud to have made it into another Boston Marathon, it’s the idea of Boston 2016–my rallying cry during my healing process–that fuels my fire on a daily basis. The reality of Boston 2016 is going to take longer to sink in.