As a runner, yesterday was hard.
Running my marathon was one of the hardest physical and mental things that I have done. When you finish a marathon, you don't have a lot left in the tank other than the mind-blowing thought that "I did it. I finished. I can stop moving now." I'm amazed at runners with the fast times (think about it, the men's world record holder was running almost 13 miles per hour and the women's world record holder was running almost 11.5 miles per hour) but I'm almost more amazed at those with slow times because those are the people who dug deep into their heads and hearts and refused to give up. My marathon a couple of years ago took almost 6 hours, hours of gasping breath and pounding legs and wondering why I had decided this was a good idea and the constant thought, "You're not a runner, just stop, no one will judge." But I would have judged myself if I had stopped and I ran to prove to myself that I am stronger than the doubts and the fear.
And, while my family was unable to be there to cheer me on, thousands of strangers became friends for a moment and cheered for us all.
My cousin, Sarah, summed it up well in her FB status.
"Crossing a marathon finish line is an accomplishment, not only for a runner but for the family & friends that inspired them along their journey to 26.2. I'm heart broken that such a sacred moment turned in to such a moment of terror and tragedy today. Praying for you Boston. Stay strong."
As a co-worker and friend, yesterday was hard.
I first heard about the explosions as chattering in the office. One of my co-workers had a niece running in the marathon and she hadn't heard from her family if her niece was all right. Other co-workers have family who live in Boston. All of the family members appear to be fine but the news sent me to FB, where I discovered that pretty much everyone I knew in Boston (and some people I didn't know were there) had been at the Marathon as spectators. I was checking constantly during the day, feeling more and more relief as, one by one, people updated their status to let everyone know they were all right.
As an American, yesterday was hard.
We like to believe we are safe, we are above it all, that kind of thing doesn't happen here. Our "safe" bubble was burst over 10 years ago but we've let it grow back, we've grown complacent. And the truth is, we live in a broken world. Evil can happen anywhere and bad things happen to good people. Where you live is no guarantee of safety. Your nationality is no guarantee of safety. But just because there is evil doesn't mean there isn't good either. You only have to look at the people who were running to help the fallen rather than running to safety.
As a global citizen, yesterday was hard.
Running (and sports) more than anything, seem to bring the world together. It seems to be the universal language. The world is a fractured place yet we can come together to watch sports. We rejoice in our triumphs and comfort in our failures. We love those who pick themselves up and continue on. We celebrate those who have the opportunity to succeed. We cheer for the underdog and revel in displays of sportsmanship. The runner who continues despite hitting the wall and intense pain. The soccer or football player who manages to walk off the field after a hard tackle. The gymnast who falls in a dismount, yet gets up and tries again. The high school basketball player who passes the ball to an opposing player with disabilities and cheers when he scores. These things touch our hearts and remind us all of what we are all capable of, especially when we work together. Yesterday, someone tried to break that global bond, tried to pull us apart again. But it won't work, just like it didn't work before. We are stronger than fear and we will continue to cheer for each other and run for each other and celebrate each other.
You can't stop us. We are runners, we are family, co-workers, and friends. We are Americans. We are global citizens. We are human and we can't be stopped.
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