I can't seem to shake Monday off. While half of me wants to rattle on about eating Reese's in bed, the other half of me can't ignore what has happened and subject you to my ridiculousness like it was any other day. So I'll keep it brief.
Like so many, I watched with excitement yesterday morning and cheered (quietly, from my desk, while simultaneously working, of course) as the elite crossed the finish line with times that I can’t even fathom.
And just a few hours later, I watched in horror as we were flooded with gruesome and terrifying images of the finish line explosions.
For so many, running is a safe haven. It brings solitude and peace in a world full of constant chaos. So my heart aches for the city that is dealing with the aftermath of such a horrible act of hatred and violence. My heart goes out to the runners, who were robbed of the joy of their accomplishment, to the crowd of spectators filled with family and friends, and to the brave men and women who were the first responders.
“There’s no reason for her to do it. There’s no competition or payoff or award. It’s just a quiet, solitary triumph over the idea that she couldn’t do it...The fact that other people can run this far makes us believe we can run that far. It’s a happy thought. It makes us all feel a little bit stronger.”