I don't even know where to start. So much has been said already, when truly, there really isn't anything that can be said to capture the horror of yesterday. What is most appalling to me, is that a marathon is such a beautiful testament to belief in oneself and the power of a strong will. Yes, it helps to get some miles in before you attempt such a feat, but ultimately, it comes down to the power of one's mind and the grit to keep going no matter what.
To qualify for and compete at Boston is often seen as the pinnacle achievement for marathoners. It takes at least one marathon to get there, and another to finish. The beauty is wrapped up in the goal and refusal to give up no matter how many times one tries. The beauty is in the hope and belief in the power of the human will. Marathoners are often solitary beings- honoring the journey as much as the destination. I don't suppose any marathoner would tell you running a marathon is easy, no matter how many they have run. So why bother? Maybe it is for the sheer joy of setting a goal and reaching it. Or perhaps, it has to do with renewing faith in oneself, affirming that one is stronger than one thinks
I feel then, that to bomb a marathon is to attack hope; an assault on one of the greatest aspects of being human. Those that were finishing yesterday when the bombs went off would not have started with the first wave of runners. They were not elite runners- likely those who had spent years trying to get there. They would have been coming in a little after 4 hours of running, just to the point where they could allow their knees to buckle, just a little, because they finally knew they were going to make it. Their families were likely at the finish. 4 hours of suspense, wondering whether the runner they took home would be the satisfied (finished) kind, or....the other kind...hope, hope, hoping that their own hope be able to supplement their runner's on one of the several 'heartbreak' hills (there are more than one). And the spectators. Those young and old, those who came to just to see, and bear witness to the strength of the human will. These are the people that were killed.
Yesterday, as news came out about what happened, it seemed that everyone was concerned about their special someone...anyone they knew that happened to be in the area. It does make tragedy stab a little deeper when we are personally affected, but truth to be told, it really doesn't matter who was hurt, because it was someone. It was someone's someone. Even if we don't know them, we can imagine what they are feeling; what happened when they asked the same question...Is ____ okay?...and learned that they were not. Everyone is someone's someone. I think about this sometimes when I'm in 'annoying' places, like waiting in line at a store, or even walking on a crowded street...all of the people- every one of them is someone's someone, and there is a person out there somewhere who would likely do anything to trade places with me...just to be near their someone for a few extra moments. We never really know who we are with, or how long we have with them. I guess we can only try to love as much as possible, no matter who we are with...even in the annoying places.
So, Boston attackers, my counter attack is to continue to love, to hope, and to run. More than before...though maybe not the running part.
To qualify for and compete at Boston is often seen as the pinnacle achievement for marathoners. It takes at least one marathon to get there, and another to finish. The beauty is wrapped up in the goal and refusal to give up no matter how many times one tries. The beauty is in the hope and belief in the power of the human will. Marathoners are often solitary beings- honoring the journey as much as the destination. I don't suppose any marathoner would tell you running a marathon is easy, no matter how many they have run. So why bother? Maybe it is for the sheer joy of setting a goal and reaching it. Or perhaps, it has to do with renewing faith in oneself, affirming that one is stronger than one thinks
I feel then, that to bomb a marathon is to attack hope; an assault on one of the greatest aspects of being human. Those that were finishing yesterday when the bombs went off would not have started with the first wave of runners. They were not elite runners- likely those who had spent years trying to get there. They would have been coming in a little after 4 hours of running, just to the point where they could allow their knees to buckle, just a little, because they finally knew they were going to make it. Their families were likely at the finish. 4 hours of suspense, wondering whether the runner they took home would be the satisfied (finished) kind, or....the other kind...hope, hope, hoping that their own hope be able to supplement their runner's on one of the several 'heartbreak' hills (there are more than one). And the spectators. Those young and old, those who came to just to see, and bear witness to the strength of the human will. These are the people that were killed.
Yesterday, as news came out about what happened, it seemed that everyone was concerned about their special someone...anyone they knew that happened to be in the area. It does make tragedy stab a little deeper when we are personally affected, but truth to be told, it really doesn't matter who was hurt, because it was someone. It was someone's someone. Even if we don't know them, we can imagine what they are feeling; what happened when they asked the same question...Is ____ okay?...and learned that they were not. Everyone is someone's someone. I think about this sometimes when I'm in 'annoying' places, like waiting in line at a store, or even walking on a crowded street...all of the people- every one of them is someone's someone, and there is a person out there somewhere who would likely do anything to trade places with me...just to be near their someone for a few extra moments. We never really know who we are with, or how long we have with them. I guess we can only try to love as much as possible, no matter who we are with...even in the annoying places.
So, Boston attackers, my counter attack is to continue to love, to hope, and to run. More than before...though maybe not the running part.
Yes. Very true. We must continue to love, hope, & move forward. Our hearts go out to those someone's...
ReplyDeleteThis is so eloquently spoken, Molly. Thank your for sharing your heart with us. I can only imagine the sacrifices, commitment, hope, and joy that marathoners experience training and ultimately reaching the end goal of crossing the finish line to be greeted by their support team. Even though this horrible event occurred at such a momentous time in these runners and spectators lives, we know that the human spirit will overcome this tragedy. Peace and love to Boston.
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