The Finish Line

The finish line of a marathon is one of the most joyful places I’ve ever been.

Running the Boston Marathon is a dream for most runners. People work for years to qualify. It’s a celebration race for many. Some don’t qualify and are running for something they strongly believe in, they work hard to raise money for worthy causes and dedicate each mile to that cause. They are running with just as much passion as those who qualify. Some people have overcome a lot just to get to the start line, let alone the finish line.

The finish line is where you know you’ve conquered a beast. The finish line is when you know your strong, where you feel invincible. Where you forget about the bad things in life. 

Yesterday morning I was glued to the race, live streaming it on my computer. We decided not to go this year, because we didn’t want to spend the money on the trip. We’ve both ran it now and decided it would be an every 5 year type of thing from now on. I tweeted in the morning “Just a little sad I’m not hanging out on Boylston st. watching the race like last year.” We’ve been to Boston for the marathon twice. In 2009, Glenn, my parents and friend Brooke were all posted up at the finish line waiting for my arrival. In 2012, I was 7 months pregnant posted up at the finish line with Glenn’s parents waiting for his arrival.

It’s the people who love the runner most out there cheering at their races. It was the people who LOVED the runners who were hurt and killed. It’s not fair. How can there be human beings out there with so much hate in their hearts. It’s pure evil and it makes me sick. These people were likely the moms and dads, brothers and sisters, kids, family and friends cheering for their loved ones to finish a race they probably worked really hard to get to.

I can’t stop thinking about the little boy who was killed. He was there to watch his father finish the Boston Marathon. All I can think is, had the dad ran by yet? Were they still waiting for him? Was he out at mile 24 when he heard what happened and got stopped and had no clue if his family was OK? How did these runners find their families if they were stopped out on the course miles away from the finish line? I can not fathom the panic and terror you would feel out there, knowing that your family or friends where waiting for you to finish and right where they were waiting was where it happened.

Today I ran my scheduled 7 miles. I felt weary and heavy and I had tears as I ran. I feel connected to this tragedy in a real way and all I can do is pray for the individuals effected from afar. I know I’m in the company of thousands of runners who feel the same way.

You just can’t make sense of what happened. It was senseless. My heart is heavy for every single person effected by yesterdays tragedy. I’m not sure I’ll ever go on a run again without thinking about Boston 2013.