A senseless act of cruelty and terror…
Why? Why did they do this? Why did they choose this event to target? My husband, who is not a runner, was perplexed, as were all of his friends. My family was perplexed. Why a marathon? How could a non-runner even begin to understand why anybody would target an event such as the Boston marathon?
I have my own theories of course, but my first response was...why not? It was logical to me. Boston is, after all, a huge part of what it means to be an American. The city itself, brim with history and culture, a tough no nonsense town, with the Boston Marathon exemplifying what it means to be a Bostonian, an American and of course a runner.
The marathon is considered to be the oldest organized race (over 117 years old this year) that attracts the most impressive of athletes from around the world. It also attracts somewhere in the realm of 50,000 spectators. Each year, when the marathon occurs, Boston becomes a town brimming with excitement and possibility. A qualifying standard makes the allure of the race even more impressive. If you do not already know this, you have to have a qualifying time just to be accepted into the race. This adds to the mystique of the race, in other words, a runner may spend their entire career chasing the "BQ."
As runner's, Boston is considered the creme de la creme of races. Luring over 20,000 runners, it is often on our bucket list of "must do's" before we die. For me, watching the runner's affected by that attack left a huge hole in my heart. I realized it affected so many people deeply but as a runner it really struck a cord with me. My heart sank for everyone there.
When the bombing occurred I had many Facebook friends and family ask if I was "safe' simply because I am a runner. Apparently they do not understand what makes Boston…well Boston. I had a hard time explaining to them that “Yes of course I was safe.” I was home, watching the news when it went down. I was not running anything. I was in my pajamas, eating dinner, shocked and saddened by the event.
After running for over a decade, I am not sure I will ever run Boston. As with any runner, it is on my bucket list but at this point, qualifying seems like an insurmountable task.
But even though I was not physically in Boston, I was able to relate to those runner’s. I knew what it felt like to be there in Boston, to work so hard for something, to feel the excitement as you pass each mile and hear the roar of the crowds. I felt bonded to them. After all, we are a strange bunch, us runners. We are kind of nerdy (well most of us), driven, goal oriented, and definitely type A. We run because we get something out of it, maybe that endorphin rush, maybe just to sweat out some stress, but we all do it for the same reasons. We pass each other on the trail and nod or smile. Occasionally we might stop to pet another person’s dog and then keep going. We are not a cruel or spiteful bunch, for the most part, we are peaceful and calm. Running is a peaceful sport. Most of us are introverts (such as myself) who prefer the company of a dog as opposed to a human running partner.
Less talk is best.
Races are run against ourselves. We do not run to win, we run to PR, we run to prove to ourselves that we can do it, can accomplish something greater than ourselves. We rarely talk to each other on races, maybe at the water stop we might give a volunteer a high-five but for the most part we are running just because we can.
Yes, I was safe I said. I said I was too slow to qualify and I said that anybody that was there would otherwise be considered an amazing athlete.
But now I realize that I was wrong. I realized as I watched the TV in my pajamas that we are all Boston, we are all one, fast, slow, old, what difference did it make? It could have been me, my sister, my friend, anybody.
Then I saw the time posted at the finish when that first bomb went off.
4:09 and change...
That 4:09 meant, slower, older, charity runner's.... in other words the back of the packers. Somebody like myself, I would have been in that spot had I been there.
I started to think about those particular runners. What it took for them to get there. The incredible amount of endurance, spirit and effort, especially for those older or slower than the rest. Runners such as myself, who are not exactly "gifted" at the sport and might take years to achieve a BQ.
For myself, I have been slogging away at that pipe dream for almost 15 years. Each year I am lucky to shave a minute or two off a previous time but fall miserably short of any chance for a BQ. My current marathon PR of 4:29 means I would have to shave 35 minutes off my time just to squeak into the back of the race.
This made me angry. Once again I was asking myself, why?
My sister, who is slated to run NYC in November, was frightened now. She said, "What if somebody bombs NYC?" She had a point; does this make all races for this relatively peaceful sport a target for terrorist attacks? I told her that she needed to do that race because living in fear was not how she wanted to live her life. I said, "Screw them! You do that race!" So she thought about it for a bit and then said that I was right, she would not live in fear.
She was going to run NYC.
And now, I will not live in fear either. Now that this has happened it has sparked something deep inside me. Yes I am slow, I am overweight, I am a flat-footed, knocked kneed, sloppy old runner, but damned if anybody is going to keep me from doing what I love. Maybe one day I will prove to myself and everybody else that I can run Boston. Yes, screw them! I will run for Boston one day, I will run for myself and I will run for all those runner's that were there or at home like myself glued to the TV. I will run for us all.
Head held high, just try and stop me!
