I am a runner.
Just a few years ago, I never would have identified myself as a runner. The thousands of hours spent at group fun runs, running 5k’s to half marathons and getting in long training miles early on Saturday mornings with my friends changed that. I became a part of a community I’d scoffed at before – who runs for fun, anyway?
Runners are dedicated, compassionate, driven, happy, energized, competitive and maybe just a little crazy. Again, I question, who runs for fun, anyway?
We talk training plans and PR times. We compare the latest gear and gadgets. We have our own lingo. We are in awe of runners who achieve the coveted BQ.
We laugh and smile and chat our way through good runs, bad runs and sad runs when one of us (or all of us) are going through tough times. And times have never been tougher for runners than right now.
The bombings in Boston have weighed heavy on my heart from the moment I saw the news. It was completely surreal to see a twitter post from my hotel room in Jamaica, only 10 minutes after the bombing occurred. I’d been following the race haphazardly throughout the day as I was closing out my event in Jamaica – I wasn’t really plugged in or tracking the progress, but I was happy to have seen the crowds and the first runners crossing the finish line a few hours earlier.
How could such an uplifting celebration of achievement turn so quickly, so unexpectedly, into chaos and fear?
There are no words, no answers for the questions swirling around in my head and my heart. I know the pure joy of crossing a finish line and I know the exhilaration of cheering your loved ones across as well.
My heart breaks for the runners, their families, and our family – the community of runners you’ll find, wherever it is you go.