Run for Boston

I love the Boston marathon.  Even though I've never run it, mostly likely never will due to my pace, and look at those who have with utter awe, my heart was shattered by the news yesterday.  While at work, I received a call that I couldn't take followed by a text message from my sister letting me know what happened.  I tried so hard to keep it together in front of my student, but by the time my next student came, I couldn't hold back tears.  I teared up and apologized for crying and when the 8 year old asked why, I had to tell him a bad person hurt some of my running friends.  When he asked why I had to say I'm not sure...

Those people in the picture above at the 2012 WDW Half Marathon finish line, I've never met them.  I've never met those spectators and I don't know any of those runners, but they are my family.  I've found such acceptance and camaraderie with this group of runners and those who support us.  They encourage me, they get the crazy desires to push my body and mind, the understand the thrill of victory, agony of defeat and they know the comfort of that a cup of water held out by a compassionate stranger.

These people who cheer us on, businesses with signs, people with banners, noise-makers, who try to yell your name, they are stepping stones that help get me to the finish of every race.  Even those who cheer me on by tweets and texts.  It all counts.

The girl above, while her sign is PG-13, it's so true.  They spur us on to do just that.

When I saw the sign above at this year's WDW Marathon, I knew.  I knew I could finish.  Because when you're on the road, sometimes your mind tells you to doubt.  That you're weak, you're out of shape, you're not good enough and that you should just quit.  But then, these strangers tell you that no,  "YOU CAN DO IT!"

That someone would decide to harm us, or the volunteers or spectators is so unthinkable.  So many of those who watch are children.  The little boy who died had just wanted to cheer on some runners with his family.  His family is in my prayers and my heart and more prayers go to those countless others affected by this.  Families around the world were watching this international event and immediately were concerned about safety for their loved ones.

I've read so many inspiring things about runners, volunteers, spectators all rushing to help whether it was at the finish line or once the race was cancelled and the remaining runners were trying to figure out what happened.  It's all so heart-warming and mind-numbing.  I think what gets me through it is knowing most people involved in this sport will only be bolstered by these events.  We don't scare easily.  We take on mileage weekly like it's nothing.  The people who cheer us on have often times, cheered us on for months beforehand.  The others come out to see feats of human determination, and a great show.  Going forward, I hope those people will continue to come out because without them, racing isn't the same.

I think the most moving thing I've read is from Dimity McDowell of Another Mother Runner.  Her post here describes my feelings exactly, but this part in particular speaks to me:

My favorite race photos are the one when we runners look like one colorful, unstoppable ribbon; despite varied paces, politics, personalities, we move as a whole.

A much better view of Boston.

Today will certainly change the flavor of future races, of race logistics, of spectator participation. But when the race goes off, we will still move as a whole.

And that, thankfully, can never be undone.

So, my photo below is dedicated to the sea of racers.  And to my fellow runners in the "unstoppable ribbon": let's run for Boston.  To the spectators and volunteers, as well as everyone affected by these events, I dedicate this post.  You're in my heart with gratitude, prayer and love.