Today, I planned on finishing my post on developing a personal brand on the internet. Obviously, that is no longer a priority for me. I'm not even sure I will come back to it. Right now it seems so insignificant.
Thank God, I was not running Boston this but I have run it twice before. When I ran, I was like so many runners yesterday, celebrating all the work I had put into getting there. Most non-runners don't realize that running the Boston Marathon course is not the achievement. Running from Hopkinton to Boylston Street is the reward. It shows all the hours on lonely streets you put into qualifying for the invite. The race is the opportunity to celebrate. As I watched the explosion on television, I returned to my two finishes. Both times, I was fortunate to stop and hug my family before finishing. I then realized how lucky I was to have not qualified for the event. Something no marathoner has said previous to yesterday. My family had cheered for me from across the street from where the two explosions had occurred. This idea hit me hard. I have never been to New York. Or to Oklahoma City. Or to any other city that has been affected by a terrorist attack. But I have been to Boston and run this race. I wondered what might have been.
Fortunately, I was in my hometown and was able to see my family shortly after I found out. It was comforting in the immediate aftermath to hug my dad and see my brothers. My 14-year old brother was even willing to hug me in front of his friends. Then, I began taking the two hour drive home to Columbus. As I drove home and began getting what little news I could, the sinking feeling started coming back. I tried listening to music but it seemed inconsequential. I wanted news. I wanted the injured list to stop or maybe to go down to false reporting. That was not the case. Shockingly, the best news reporting came from ESPN. Even though, I had just seen my family and knew they would never go without me, I was terrified that they were hurt. When I reached Columbus, I needed to call and here their voices. I talk shortly to my dad and my brother. I still was afraid but felt somewhat better. I spent the rest of the evening thinking what might have been. I had wanted to run Boston this year. I, also, felt comfort in text from family and friends. Several, texted and messaged to make sure I was safe. When I finally saw my wife, I felt safe in her arms. I ran my last Boston before I met her and did not have the same feeling of dread. She was safe away from my memories and far from my nightmares. I had a headache before bed and that gave myself the excuse to take a Tylenol PM. It helped and I'm glad I did.
When I woke up this morning, my gut still sank. I had hoped it was all the worst dream of my life and the people of Boston were actually shaking off another wonderful Patriots Day. No such luck. The news became even worse when I got online. The attacks had killed an 8-year boy: Martin Richard. He had been there to watch his father finish. Looking just as young as my brothers were when I finished my races. Then I heard that his mother had brain surgery and his sister had lost a leg. My heart was torn up for the father. Working so long and so hard for this day and then have it ruined for no reason. I think of all the ways I can celebrate the life of this boy. Wear his name at my next race, raise money for his family and anything else to not let the terrorist win.
As I read his name over and over again. I became oddly relieved the coward of this attack had not taken responsibility. I had been given the opportunity to learn Martin's name and not a rat. After the Sandy Hook killings the only name I heard was that of the shooter. The children's names weren't mentioned, the heroic teachers name were not mentioned. Just the shooter. And that was not a name I wanted to hear. I now have a name to remember. A name to keep running for. A name to show the weasel that we will run on and that they will not scare us away from something we love.
I had also spent the last day taking comfort in not knowing anyone running the race. I did not need to be afraid for anyone. That to could not be left sacred in my mind. My dad let me know that moments before the explosion my 1st grade teacher had crossed the finish line. Then, I went on Facebook and saw that a childhood friend had also run the race. Fortunately, they are both safe. But what might have been.
As I look through the online running groups am a part of, I am reminded that while running is a lone sport, we are connected in a common bond. All realize the mental fortitude it takes to participate. It is often not the body that is honed but the mind. It was said by the first women to complete the Boston Marathon that "If you are losing faith in humanity, then go watch a marathon." This statement was ruined for yesterday's race. We saw the worst humanity, but if we looked closely we saw the best. The first responders running toward danger and not away. The citizens of Boston who opened their homes to displaced visitors.
These attacks took the humanity out of the 2013 +The Boston Marathon but it did not take the humanity out of marathon. In the coming weeks, months and years runners will show the true humanity of the event. We will line up for the peak of marathon season and run to remember the victims. Then in a year, people will return to Hopkinton and start the 26.2 mile memorial run. They will look to left as they are about to finish and salute those who were lost. I hope that I have the privilege of being one.
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