Run for Boston

I know this really doesn't have anything to do with "love" but I wanted to share my feelings/emotions toward what happened to Boston.

When I first heard about the Boston Marathon bombing I thought “That’s messed up” and then went about my day. I honestly didn’t give it much more thought than that because I didn’t feel like it affected me personally (or any more than any other American that was hearing about it on the news). Then I started having several people ask me if I was scared to run now. When the first two people asked, I thought “Why would I be scared? That was in Boston and I live in Kansas City.” Then I really got to thinking about it and got to thinking about how big some of the races are that I’m going to run. After that my answer started to become “Yeah I’m kind of scared to run the bigger races now.” I started going through my list of races and thinking “I don’t think I will do that one anymore.” With these thoughts circling in my head and after hearing more and more about Boston I felt like I spent the rest of the day walking around in a daze. I was even supposed to run that night and I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t take my eyes off the news. Then I started to ask myself “Why is this hitting you so hard? Why is this affecting you? These people were runners. They ran all the time and they were good at it. You just do it as something to do. You aren’t a real runner.” 

Later that night I heard on the news that over 140 people had been injured and 3 had lost their lives. Then the news anchor said, “And the vast majority of those people injured where spectators.” Spectators are those people who show up and cheer with noisemakers. They give high fives to every runner that’s close to them. They have encouraging signs like “Chuck Norris never ran a marathon” or “That guy stole my purse, can you go get it” or “My mascara runs faster than you” or “You guys are all crazy! Keep going!” The spectators are the people that matter most to the runners. Without them, a race would be just a day of exercise (or self-abuse).

What people don’t realize is that running can be a very lonely sport. You spend hours a week on the road; most of the time totally by yourself. You give up evening activities and neglect close friends because you have to “get your run in for the day.” (And not to mention the aches and pains and disgusting feet that is caused by this.) But on race day, all of that disappears. All you see if a route lined with people. People holding signs and encouraging everyone. In fact, on my first race, I got to a point that I really didn’t know if I was going to be able to continue. Then I heard someone yell “Come on 990. You’re almost there. Keep your head up.” I thought “990? I thought I was wearing 990.” So I looked down at my bib and I was. I looked at the spectator and she looked right at me and said “Come on. You can do it.” She was cheering for me!?! And I didn’t even know her? That’s when I realized what spectators really are and why they get up so early to line the race path.  

Kathrine Switzer, a women’s marathoning pioneer, said “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.” Even though I have not ran a marathon, I know this to be true of any race. This is true because of the spectators. These are the people that give up their morning to go encourage a bunch of crazy people to keep running. They don’t receive a medal at the end. They don’t really receive any recognition at all. Yet they are the reason why every runner finishes the race.

Yesterday I sat out on my “long run” for the week. I sat out with a goal of 6 miles (even though I had only ran 5 miles twice and 4 miles once.) When I was completing mile 5, I felt like I was going to start crying. My knees began to hurt. My hips were locking up. But the biggest reason I was getting upset was because I had set out to run 6 miles and I wasn’t going to make it. I was going to fall short of my goal. Then I started to think about Boston. I thought about the runners who witnessed everything. I thought about the runners that didn’t get to finish. I thought about those that may not be able to walk or run again. And then I thought about the spectators. I thought about those truly innocent people that had gone to cheer on total strangers as well as a one or two they might know. I thought about how they constantly give up time to make sure that runners achieve their goal. I thought about how truly selfless those people are and yet they were the ones that were attacked. Then I felt the tears rolling down my face. On Monday I thought I wasn’t a “real runner” so the attack wasn’t personal. But that following Saturday, it was personal. It was very personal. It was personal because I am a runner. For the first time, I felt like a runner. I felt like a runner because in every race I have ran, I have had spectators cheer for me. They considered me a runner. No matter how far I ran, short I ran, fast I ran, or slow I ran…the spectators were always be there cheering me on. And they will continue to be there. And they will continue to cheer. I decided in that moment, that the run was not about me. It was not about achieving a goal and beating a personal record. It was about Boston. It was about the spectators. I needed to run for Boston and for the spectators that were injured or even lost their lives. And that’s what I did. I ran six miles for Boston!