I wrote this entry last year, the day after the Boston Marathon. This morning I wanted to share it again because it is all still true. I’m going to be watching the race while at my desk, the same as last year, holding my breath- not because I’m afraid, but because I am in shear awe of what the human body can do. Good luck to all running this year, it’s a beautiful day!
Many of us cannot run eight minute miles. Many of us will never be first in our age group. And most of us will never make it to Boston.
Some of us run because we want to stay/get healthy. Some of us run because it’s cheap therapy. Some of us run for a cause/charity. And some of us love to get the swag.
Regardless of our pace and reason why we lace up, we are all runners. We are all part of this family that nod to each other in passing, spread words of encouragement and help those who have fallen.
We have odd diets that fuel us for miles, rituals that prepare us for the journey and motivation to carry us across the finish line.
We run in the morning before the sun and our families rise for the day. We run on our lunch breaks. We run after tucking in our children to recharge for the next day to come.
It is a sporting event that spectators don’t pay to see, stand for hours on end and cheer for complete strangers. Never will you hear someone boo you but you will find community members offering a hose to cool you off and pick up your spirits. There are plenty of tears; from the pain that convinces you you’ll never run again (which isn’t true) and the overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. The energy at any race is contagious for all runners, volunteers and spectators.
Today when I slipped on my sneakers, I ran for those in yesterday’s race that didn’t get to finish. I ran for the loved ones that came to watch. I ran for the person(s) that tried to ruin this tradition.
We are all going to continue to run.