Musings on Boston

"It's been a while..." seems like an understatement, but regardless, I'm here now. Unfortunately, it takes a sense of tragedy to bring feelings to light and with details of the bombings at the Boston Marathon plaguing my mind, I couldn't help but write something. My personal journal is being filled with personal drama of finding a new apartment, trying to find time between school and work to do much of anything, making sense of turning 30 this year... and, while those seemingly trivial topics do matter to me, the tragedy in Boston hits closer to home because being a part of marathons has been a way for me to make sense of loss. When I lost my niece nearly four yeas ago, I felt like I needed to do something, ANYTHING to be an active part of helping to find a cure. So I made the attempt to attempt 50 marathons in 50 states before I'm 50 - with the idea that I would do a fundraising effort with each marathon I finished, with the proceeds going to childhood cancer research. Even though it is a small gesture, I held out hope that more people would notice and, if not anything else, be aware of childhood cancer and the fact that awareness needs to be made. With each marathon I ran (currently four), I held my niece and other childhood cancer angels so close to my heart I could swear that they were running along side me. I can remember vividly being so close to that finish line and feeling such hope in the cause I was running for.

Which brings me to today - I received news of the bombings while I was at work. I guess it didn't effect me until I saw the footage while I was on my break, which happened to be hours later. They showed slow motion footage of the bomb going off near the finish line. I guess what got me most was the fact that I saw runners collapsing when it happened. I mean, think about it. They had been running for over 4 hours and were yards away from accomplishing a goal they had worked so hard on - when the unthinkable happened. I can hardly imagine it. I have notoriously said that the hardest part of the marathon is the .2 of the 26.2... and these bombs were literally in the .2, -  the final moments of the race. As a runner, I am petrified at the thought of it. But then I thought of being a runner and knowing that my family and friends are there supporting me and are likely at the finish line waiting for me to cross. Where would they have been? The feeling caught me off guard, and it took all I had in me not to sob openly in the break room. And then I thought of other tragedies in my adult years that have made the news - major landmarks, malls, schools, movie theaters... is nothing safe?

With many of my races, I have ran alone - literally, alone in a city I've never been to. No one is at the finish line, no one is personally cheering me on in the crowd and I've been alright with that. Part of me feels like it helps me focus more on my goal - it motivates me to keep moving. But this act of terror in Boston... this specific act of hate... left me feeling so vulnerable. What would I do if I were in a city alone and something like this happened? How can I even prepare for the unexpected? 

On the way home from work, I browsed through my facebook feed on my phone. In the midst of well-wishing for Boston (and a surprising amount of the same Mr. Rogers quote with varied fonts and pictures), I saw this article that a friend posted on facebook:

http://www.theatlantic.com/national/archive/2013/04/the-boston-marathon-bombing-keep-calm-and-carry-on/275014/

Of all the articles swimming in the vast sea of the internet, this one struck home. It is still too soon to tell what the reason (if any) for this bombing is. It is scary to think about and imagine what could have happened, but like the article suggests "Empathize, but refuse to be terrorized". Our minds instantly cause us to think that this is something that could happen anywhere, but truth be told, it is incredibly unlikely. 

So yes, I am still a bit emotional. When I am finished with this blog post, I am going to crawl into bed and hold my partner a little bit tighter than I normally would. But I feel reaffirmed in my goals to run in races while my heart goes out to the city of Boston and everyone effected by this immense tragedy. We will get through this together.