Boston

I’ve held off writing anything about the Boston Marathon tragedy because frankly, it has all been a bit overwhelming and I’ve been trying to wrap my head around all of it.

Is that possible?

How does one wrap their head around the senseless acts of last Monday?  The death, the injuries, the devastation, the total panic that ensued afterwards.  And, if you’re a runner, I’m sure you’ll understand the frustration of the runners that were thisclose to the finish line and never made it.

I am a runner.  I will most likely never qualify for Boston, (unless I can run the 80-year old qualification time, and I doubt I could do that!) but I am a runner.  Running is my sport of choice.  It’s my outlet, my peace, my zen, my sweat, my hard work, and my determination.  It’s my ‘me time,’ my church, and my place to zone out.

Someone violated that.  It doesn’t matter who did it, why they did it, how it was done, whether or not we ever hear the entire story, (and you know we won’t.) or know all the truths of what we have heard.  It doesn’t matter.  It happened.  It happened to those who were physically there and to those whose hearts were in Boston that day.

Does this make me think twice about signing up for races?  Sure it does.  Does it make me want to tell my family not to come and cheer me on?  Hell no!  I love seeing them at the finish line, and I hear they like being there.  Now I want to do even more races.  And I will.  I will always run first for me, second for my family, and now I will run third for Boston.  (Look up #run3rd – it’s great!)

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