No More Hurting People

Ever since I started running marathons, my family has almost always been at the finish.  One of my favorite pictures, taken at the first marathon I ever ran, shows my husband holding the hand of our then eight year old daughter while her three year old sister lays on the ground, pressed up against the fencing, sound asleep.  They always wanted to be right there, so worried that I might need something after the long race.  They always carried a backpack, with dry, warm clothes for me, a nice cold diet coke, and flip flops, since my running shoes never remained on my feet for very long.  My husband has continued the tradition years later, joined by the girls when they aren't busy with high school or college activities.  They are there to shout out my name, take pictures, and embrace me once I cross the line.  And while they worry for me, I never thought about worrying about them.
The attack this week at the Boston Marathon changed everything.  It left a vulnerable and open place that mixes shock, fear,anger, and even guilt among the running community.  One pediatric doctor, who ran the marathon and then aided the wounded, spoke with raw emotion to CNN when she said "Did they die because of me?"  I can't begin to understand what it feels like for those who might have been there - to witness horror unimaginable.  I do understand, however, how that young doctor might feel.  Anyone who has run a race knows the incredible amount of support it takes from family and friends as the runner trains:  no late nights before long runs, special diets that are adhered to, carving into family time to work in another run.  It is a sacrifice made by many families so that their runner can achieve a personal, even selfish, dream.  But my family, like countless others, never question the dream.  They share in the excitement of the planning, the training and the race.  They get up early to see the start, and are right there, holding signs and ringing cowbells at the finish.  We may be the ones running, but those who support us are every bit as important to our success.
When the bombs went off in Boston, they attacked the heart of the running community.  Those bombs killed and wounded the very fiber of the runner by attacking those who make our running possible.  By targeting the spectators, those bombs did more damage than if they had been aimed at the runners alone.  In the process, they left a wake of disbelief and pain that will be difficult to overcome.  I can't bear to think of my own family standing at that finish line in Boston.  It is just too real.  Time heals, or so we are told.  I am praying that it is true for all who were affected, in Boston and beyond.