Three days a week, I run.
I’m not a marathon runner, and I’m not a good runner.
Most days I hate running, but I have set a goal for myself this year to run a 5K and a 10K. I have an app on my phone that tells me how far and fast I have to run every day to achieve this. On the mornings I run, my love/hate relationship with my phone is closer to the “hate” side of the needle. On the three days I run each week, I get up, rub my eyes, throw on some manmade fabric that whisks the sweat off my body, slip on my size 14 running shoes, grab some water and strap the retched phone to my arm and leave the comfy confines of my home to clomp the streets like a gimpy Clydesdale.
When I left the house to run this morning, to say my thoughts were with those in Boston during my run this morning would be a huge understatement.
This quixotic battle I fight with aging is supposed to be a discreet, wordless battle between me and my own inner demons. That’s what running is all about – we beat up our bodies, push ourselves and see where the edge of our boundaries are (apparently my boundary is the mythical 3 mile mark – there’s a demon living beyond that ridge that I just can’t reach). For many amazing people yesterday, they reached beyond their limits and ran more than 26 miles.
When you run up to your personal finish line, whether it’s 3 miles or 26 miles and 385 yards, you want to feel a sense of accomplishment, you want an “atta boy” from a loved one, you want one of those little silver blankets to wrap around you so you feel like an astronaut just stepping out of some James Bondian intergalactic space shower, you want a greasy cheeseburger. You want any of those things.
What you don’t want or expect is a leg full of ball bearings and other shrapnel as you rock up to the finish line! Who the fuck does that to someone!?!
Runners deserve better, Spectators deserve better (let’s face it, watching a run is significantly less fun than actually running), Boston deserves better. We all deserve better.
I ran with Boston in my mind and heart today. I know that doesn’t mean much, but it got me to where I wish a bunch of people running the Boston Marathon had gotten to yesterday… the finish line.
Photo Credit: Josiah Mackenzie via Compfight cc