I ran a little bit harder last night, because it was the only thing that made sense to do.
And while my energy level waxed and waned - strides of anger gave way steps to of depression, then transformed to a hopeful gallop - I finished my run with a little more mental clarity than when I began.
In the wake of the tragedy at the Boston Marathon yesterday, that's all I was seeking - clarity. It's often impossible to find when faced with senseless violence, and as a runner - but more a husband, and father, and human - this situation hit home a little harder for me than other similar events. I couldn't help but think about all the races my wife has attended, waiting to cheer me on as I sprinted down the finishing chute. Or about the race I am doing in June, where I once hoped (but now am not so sure) that her and my daughter would again be there to greet me.
And on that run yesterday, I couldn't help but think about all of the innocent people who simply went out to enjoy an athletic event - a marathon, the pinnacle of challenge, endurance, and health - and left shaken at the least and injured or deceased at the worst. To have an event that is normally full of celebration be tarnished in that way - I am still processing it.
To a lesser degree, I was also heartbroken for the participants of the marathon themselves. Boston is the holy grail of races, if you will, with runners making monumental commitments and sacrifices simply to qualify for entrance. To see that hard work sullied with yesterday's carnage was extremely sad.
But after going out and robotically putting one foot in front of the other like so many of those runners did in Boston, letting my mind race off in a thousand different directions, what I came away with was this: The runners will be fine. Everyone else, though, is going to need help.
See, runners persevere. It's what we do. It's what gets us out of bed at ungodly hours to commit miles to the pavement as some people are just coming home from the late shift or others are waking up to their morning coffee. Whether there are injuries, illnesses, scheduling conflicts - whatever - runners are wired in such a way that when the word "quit" pops up in their heads, some other force erases it and pushes them on.
It's at times like this, and in the face of this kind of tragedy, that runners can set the example for every one else who is affected and teach others how to persevere.
It won't be easy. All of the people affected yesterday - be it those who were injured, or the families and friends of those who lost life and limb - have a far more difficult road ahead of them than any stretch of 26.2 miles a runner could ever encounter.
But the first steps have already been taken. The widespread reports of random kindness - runners immediately donating blood at hospitals, people loaning cell phones to one another to contact lost loved ones, Boston natives opening their homes to runners who were shut out of their hotels - are tremendous. My hope is that, as the days and weeks pass and the news coverage shifts to something else, this spirit stays intact and runners and non-runners alike continue to support each other.
The healing process, much like the old running cliche, will indeed be a marathon, not a sprint. It's time for runners to set the example and spread their enduring spirit to others.
