At The Finish

This originated as an email exchange, on the day of the Boston Marathon bombing, with me explaining to some of my non-running friends why i am so gutted by that day’s events. my daughter read it, and said, ‘you should share this…’, and so i am.

“so much of this bothers me, at a gut-level. first of all, it is an attack on everyman. those who would be near the finish line at 4:10 into the race are NOT the elite runners (those runners were done well before this time, showered, and eating salty foods somewhere). the runners finishing at that time are having the race of their lives; they qualified in some other race to get there (it’s tough to get INTO the Boston Marathon; if i EVER qualified (ha!), i would tattoo my BQ (Boston Qualifying) time on my ankle, no kidding.). those crossing the finish are weekend warriors, who’ve been training like crazy, and are thrilled to actually be doing this: finishingBostonohmygod!!! They are not radically different from the runners i see out in the parkway and trails around my house, early in the morning, in rain and dark, running with a goal in mind. these are probably many first-timers, with their families and kids watching at the finish line. they are suburban guys, running a decent race, or moms like me, having the race of their life (to give some perspective: if i ever ran a marathon, and could hold my pace time, i’d be finishing around 4:50, so behind this crowd who was at the finish line as the explosions occurred). so these were just folks, doing what they loved, achieving a dream, not elite, not headline-makers, but weekend runners, running in their Mecca. so many of us runners have a silent voice that sometimes kneads around the idea, ‘if i ever got to Boston…’, and these folks were DOING IT — nearly had it in their grasp. they are about to accomplish an elite feat that so few ever see happen. God, they are out doing their own thing, and they lose a freaking limb. it’s an attack on everyday life, on the quietest competitors and those who love and support them, just because — that one day — they are in a crowd, and are a soft target. hell, aren’t we all soft targets.

the running community is quiet, and inside our own heads. many many days, the first person i speak to is another runner, out training. it’s hard to explain why we lace up, every day. it’s the rush of challenging ourselves, or of knowing you have good miles behind you, or to be sure you’ve got the grit to do it. it’s all on you, only you. and hours and hours, days, weeks, years of training occur alone and in quiet dark, on shady trails or less-travelled roads. finally, when we are ready, we coerce our families and friends to show up, to cheer for us or carry a sign, as we race in a big, crowded public venue. on that day, we bring it out of the solitude and into a pack of folks doing exactly what we are doing. the people lining the streets are the families and friends of the runners, or are other runners themselves, or maybe just want to see the those crazy enough to set goals of running for hours — to do what so few can do: run 26.2 miles. everyone running is inspired; everyone cheering has an element of pride. and at the finish, you have nothing, zero, left. you leave years of training on the street behind you, and both your exhaustion and exhilaration are complete. you might only do one marathon in your life; and if you are in this finishing pack, you may only run one Boston in your life. it’s bucket-list stuff.

this really hits me where i live, in so many ways. i feel safe, and at my best, when i run. i hope that is still the case for me, and for all runners. and all of us, everywhere.”