Boston Marathon

The first marathon I ever watched was in Nashville.  My mother came with her childhood friend, Susie, to support Susie’s daughter in the 1/2 marathon.  I remember being amazed that Heidi was running that far and literally stunned by how many others joined her.  We watched the beginning on Lower Broadway, but made our way to the finish line for the rest. 

I squeezed up next to the fence and gazed in bewilderment as the elite runners flew by mile 26 at a sub five minute pace.  I was about 10 years younger and in decent shape, but remember thinking I couldn’t have run the last 100 yards that fast if I used starting blocks! 

People were so positive and energetic as they encouraged the runners through their final steps.  I was not used to the early morning activity and marveled at the genuine smiles and happiness.  I didn’t turn into a runner that day, but it was always in the back of my mind. 

Susie, at 60 years old, may have been the happiest of the bunch.  She stood next to me and shouted at all the shirtless young guys, “Whew!  Way to go hottie!”  “Wow, sexy thang!” 

I was kinda funny and embarrassing at once.  Finally, I gave her a look like “what the hell are you doing?” 

She matter of factly brushed me off by saying, “Oh, they love it.” 

And she was right.  Nothing makes you run harder than an unsolicited compliment. 

By the end of that afternoon Susie’s brash advances (along with the awkward reactions of the guys) had me rolling on the ground. 

Now, it is today, and some bitter and demented person or persons decided they wanted to squash the fun.  I am sad, confused, and angry.  Like everyone else I think it was cowardly and twisted.  I search for answers, but nothing will explain why someone detonates bombs on innocent people. 

What makes me sad is how some of happiest moments of these people’s lives were ripped away in a split second.  How someone just like Susie was having the time of her life dishing inspiration to people who dripped sweat for months and miles to find that finish line.  How so many would have been able to say “I finished Boston.”  And how, instead of simple sweat, they were left with blood and tears.  

I think about the volunteers and security guards who went from token support to life savers instead of changing out of their yellow t-shirts.  The neighbors, the shop owners, and the students that look forward to this day like no other, but will never think of it the same.  I think about the people who squeezed up next to the fence and gazed in bewilderment as elite runners flew by at a sub 5 minute pace to cross the most prestigious finish line in running.  And how now, because of a lost and distorted mind, those same people, who stood cheering for hundreds of strangers, will never be able to stand on those legs again. 

Finishing a race is an incredible high.  You’re exhausted, but completely relaxed and at ease with the world.  You’re endorphins soar and your most genuine and compassionate sides flourish.  The simplest things in life take center stage.  A hand shake, a high five, a hug.  Today, thousands shared those moments with friends and family before their serenity was shattered by indiscriminate violence, and once again, left us asking why. 

When logic goes out the window.  When the pain is greater than we can understand.  When the suffering seems to have no end.  There’s only one thing you can do.  Keep the faith.