Baby I was born to run...
**This post is kind of all over the place. I think that's because right now I dont' have a good grasp on where I am with today's events. But I needed to get this out...so here it is. **
Ever since I knew what a marathon was, I've wanted to run the Boston Marathon. I've covered 26.2 miles 8 times, but never at a speed that has allowed me to enter the "almighty Boston Marathon". I trained a few times to be a BQ ( Boston Qualifier ), but to no avail. Don't get my wrong, I ran some great races, but not a time that allowed me to run from Hopkinton to Boylston Ave. Every year I watch proudly as fellow runners make the trip to Boston, cheering on the runners from start to finish (usually from a live feed on my computer),hoping knowing that one day someone will sit in Kansas City and cheer me on. This year was no different. I watched women I know scorch through the course, and I was so proud. In hindsight, I've never been prouder that they ran so fast, because today, unlike any other in the history of the marathon, minutes literally meant the difference between life and death.
"There were two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon" read the message I received. Excuse me? Launch Internet Explorer...confirmed. Whoa. Stop. Breathe. Is everyone ok? Race to Facebook. Hit refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Willing those I know to post, to tell me they're ok. The running community of KC that I have learned to love, that has seen me through good and bad was there today. WE used every resource we had to make sure that those we have laughed and sweat and cried with were ok. And they were...well, at least physically. Physically we're all ok, but mentally, I'm not sure.
The marathon is supposed to test you, it's supposed to bring you to tears, but not like this. It's supposed to be safe. When you cross the finish line, you're supposed to cry tears of joy and experience an innocent moment of joy. What has been taken from us today? And why? There are still far too many questions, and far too few answers.
When I thought of my friends today, I thought not only of them, but of their children. I thought of their husbands at home frantically waiting for the 'all clear' from them. And then I thought of my own sweet boy. I run for me, but I also run for him. I run because it makes me a better Mom. Why does violence have to invade my safe place, the place I go to be better for my child?
To say it isn't fair, isn't fair. There are people that lost far more than me today. I offer up prayers and hope for their future. But never again will I go to a race, toe the starting line and feel the same. And for that I am sad. But I know runners, and I know we overcome. We have lost some of our innocence today, but that doesn't mean that all is lost. I know that tomorrow when I lace up my shoes and pass my fellow runner on the street that we will nod at each other, and we will be thinking of those souls that were lost today. We'll pause for a moment, but then we'll forge up that hill until our quads ache, because we've got a PR in our sights. And one day I too will toe the line in Boston, not with fear, but with overwhelming joy and love for my sport.
Godspeed runners. Thank you fans.
Ever since I knew what a marathon was, I've wanted to run the Boston Marathon. I've covered 26.2 miles 8 times, but never at a speed that has allowed me to enter the "almighty Boston Marathon". I trained a few times to be a BQ ( Boston Qualifier ), but to no avail. Don't get my wrong, I ran some great races, but not a time that allowed me to run from Hopkinton to Boylston Ave. Every year I watch proudly as fellow runners make the trip to Boston, cheering on the runners from start to finish (usually from a live feed on my computer),
"There were two explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon" read the message I received. Excuse me? Launch Internet Explorer...confirmed. Whoa. Stop. Breathe. Is everyone ok? Race to Facebook. Hit refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Willing those I know to post, to tell me they're ok. The running community of KC that I have learned to love, that has seen me through good and bad was there today. WE used every resource we had to make sure that those we have laughed and sweat and cried with were ok. And they were...well, at least physically. Physically we're all ok, but mentally, I'm not sure.
The marathon is supposed to test you, it's supposed to bring you to tears, but not like this. It's supposed to be safe. When you cross the finish line, you're supposed to cry tears of joy and experience an innocent moment of joy. What has been taken from us today? And why? There are still far too many questions, and far too few answers.
When I thought of my friends today, I thought not only of them, but of their children. I thought of their husbands at home frantically waiting for the 'all clear' from them. And then I thought of my own sweet boy. I run for me, but I also run for him. I run because it makes me a better Mom. Why does violence have to invade my safe place, the place I go to be better for my child?
To say it isn't fair, isn't fair. There are people that lost far more than me today. I offer up prayers and hope for their future. But never again will I go to a race, toe the starting line and feel the same. And for that I am sad. But I know runners, and I know we overcome. We have lost some of our innocence today, but that doesn't mean that all is lost. I know that tomorrow when I lace up my shoes and pass my fellow runner on the street that we will nod at each other, and we will be thinking of those souls that were lost today. We'll pause for a moment, but then we'll forge up that hill until our quads ache, because we've got a PR in our sights. And one day I too will toe the line in Boston, not with fear, but with overwhelming joy and love for my sport.
Godspeed runners. Thank you fans.
Beautiful my beautiful marathon running friend. Godspeed indeed! xoxo
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