I'm an avid, albeit amateur, runner.
I'm not fast.
I'm not special.
I'm not exceptionally good at running. But I'm a runner.
In running we are challenged to overcome pain, self doubt, stress, distance, heat, rain, snow, and all manner of nay-sayers. Running is about triumph.
And as a runner there is no challenge more celebrated than the Marathon. 26.2 miles is a historic distance respected by all. A marathon is not some jaunt on a dreadmill (aka treadmill). It's a massive undertaking requiring months of training, planning, and sacrifice.
I learned this firsthand when I ran my first marathon last year. It was one of the most difficult things I've ever put my mind and body through. You probably don't know the depths of mental darkness available within you until you hit the wall at mile 22.
Of all the marathons in the world the most celebrated is Boston. It's the every-man's Olympics. Anyone who is willing to work hard enough to BQ (Boston Qualify) can run with the elites on the historic course. Every runner dreams of running Boston.
Running the Boston is such a big deal that if I ever qualified I would practically require my family to be present at the finish to witness my accomplishment.
I'm not special.
And I could have been there. My family could have been there.
The horrific attack at the finish line reminds us that there is no limit to the evil within man.
But then there were heroic acts. The first responders and athletes who ran towards the explosions to help the victims. The people of Boston who rushed to hospitals to donate blood. The outpouring of help and support to the victims reminds us that there is no limit to our capacity for good.
As the running community and the people of Boston band together to heal, I hope that one day, soon, running will once again represent triumph.
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