Boston - I'll see you next year

Yes, I will run Boston next year and no I'm not afraid.  I'm not afraid to run Ottawa in 6 weeks,  I'm not afraid to spectate at the Toronto Goodlife in a few weeks.  And I will not be afraid to run Boston next year, or New York, or Chicago, or London ... the list can go on.

Yesterday I went through 3 huge emotional roller-coasters.  When I first heard the news from my husband, I was sick; I literally dry-heaved.  Then as I got sucked into the CNN coverage and the social media coverage  and I was overcome with a huge amount of sadness.  Sadness for those poor, unsuspecting spectators, for the runners at the finishing area at the time and for the runners being stopped in the middle of their biggest race of a lifetime.  And then I got down right angry.  Angry that someone, some group, chose a venue that offers nothing but good, to perform their act of terror for whatever sick reason they had for harming innocent people.   What happened yesterday in Boston will leave a scar the running community will never forget.

Of course now we hear talk about "beefing up" security at the large races or even the preposterous notion of cancelling races.  Might as well discuss cancelling every large parade out there if that is the case - there really isn't much of a difference between a race and a parade now is there?  What about rush hour in the big cities?  Are we to now avoid any circumstance where a lot of folks are gathered?  Do we make our world a police state?  We all should give our heads a shake.

As the news trickled out yesterday, I grew more and more angry.  Angry that many of those injured had their  legs amputated.  Angry that one of the murdered was an 8 year old boy.  Angry that my father sent me an email simply saying "This is where you want to run???".  Angry that the dreams of so many marathoners were crushed by such a senseless and cowardly act.

And it's so easy to place yourself there - to calculate your time and think, wow I would have just been finishing, to think of my husband who always climbs on top of things, notably garbage cans, to get a better vantage point for photographs, to imagine my children waiting impatiently to see me cross the finish line.  And then, in the pit of my stomach, the sickness comes back.

So today, I grieve.  I grieve for that poor father who lost his son, and has his wife and daughter in critical condition.  I grieve for the families of the others that were murdered.  I grieve for all those who lost their limbs, whose lives are forever changed by their injuries.  I grieve for all the children who witnessed and have lost their innocence forever.  I grieve for all of Boston as they pick up the pieces and move forward after an attack on not only their city but their beloved Patriot Day and their iconic marathon.  And I grieve for myself and my entire running community because our beloved sport is scared forever.

But I will not be afraid and I will continue to run.