April 15 2013

This morning I totes ran 10 miles and my pace was great, and it included two hill sprints...

Yeah, no.

I'm also writing about Boston today.

I know, just what you needed...another heartfelt outpouring even though everything has already been said, including--literally--"everything has already been said."


The day started out so well. I was excitedly tracking over a dozen friends, most of whom I have grown to call friends because of blogging.

The moment I found out (sitting on the toilet peeing--yeah I do that--my heart flipped as I read desperate pleas on Facebook for friends in Boston to post they were okay), it felt like it had always been written in the cards. Of course a marathon would be attacked. Of course the “greatest” marathon in the United States (or anywhere?) would be attacked. Of course a place where the celebration of being alive and active and full of physical sensory overload and cheering and pride would be attacked. Terrible people who want to make people hurt know exactly where to hit.

Since everything HAS been said, I want to say just three short things to three groups of people.

To every person who has ever spectated a race for a friend, a loved one, or just for fun. Thank you, and you rock. You are the support system for each of us who has ever run a race; you drop us off at 6:00 a.m.; you beeline around town to cheer for mere seconds; you make those mere seconds last for miles.

To all you internet chatterheads. Thank you, and you also rock (this time). Responses to tragedies online can vary from annoying to false to self-absorbed to moving, but in this event, I felt cradled each time I found myself online reading other people say what I couldn’t find the words to say, and I felt that I was not alone in my grief and runner pride and spectator love. The internet is okay on this one, even with all the exaggerations (please, most people except for cops/medics were running away, as they had a perfect right to do; and 99.9% of the marathoners were not trying to donate their blood).

To everyone who ran Boston yesterday: You rock. I am proud and excited for what each of you accomplished.

I'm so sorry that you had to see, or hear, or experience what you did.  It must have been terrifying.

I want to tell you that in celebration of running, and in celebration of the Boston marathon, and in celebration of the spectators, I hope you may be able to allow yourself to find some joy in the earlier part of the day. I’m sure many would say it is insensitive to care anymore about your Boston performance. But why? Everyone is on the runners’ side this time. This isn’t Hurricane Sandy where runners became the target of the struggle to grasp the unfairness. You can still be proud that you ran and (if you were able to) finished, especially on behalf of those of us who have never run Boston (yet), and who will never know what it was like to run Boston when it was innocent. It was the last time that you or anyone will cross the finish line at Boston with it just being, “Boston.” Instead of “Boston…never forget.”

And I’m sorry that so many of you didn’t even get to finish. It’s okay to be sorry about that. Of course it doesn't compare to losing a limb or a life, but it is a sad situation indeed. I understand that many years went into that single day for many of you.

I want you to know that when you are ready, I hope you remember the happiness in the first half of April 15, 2013, and hope that you share your racing experience. The thousands of people cheering out on the sidelines, including your family and friends, too many of who are now severely injured or worse, were there to help you soar during that marathon. I, for one, would like to hear about the part where you soared.

Hopefully Facebook isn't lying about this one.  Early in the day on April 15, 2013. The good part.

I am planning to break my cheap rule to not spend hard-earned traveling money on a marathon, and I am planning to break through my fear of super-marathons crowds, so that I can (hopefully) run the Boston marathon in 2014. I recognize that it is a privilege to be able to try and enter, and to be a part of something so big next year.

And now, for some words from Patton Oswalt.

(Just kidding. Who knew he was the spokesperson in defense of the Boston Marathon and the good nature of humanity? Oh, Patton Oswalt.).