I am a runner, and yesterday’s tragic events during the Boston Marathon have affected me to the core. I know what it’s like to be that runner, to push yourself to finish a race when you’ve got nothing left. To feel like you’re going to collapse as you cross that finish line. To know that your loved ones are cheering you on, waiting for you at the end. And to get the second or third wind after you finish and feeling like you can do it all over again because you finished your first race. Or your 50th. Or you beat your personal record. Or simply because you went out and did it.
That wonderful feeling of celebration and happiness was taken away from yesterday’s participants and spectators because someone (or several someones) thought they could destroy us by bombing the oldest race, in one of the most historic cities, in our country. They may have temporarily halted our happiness, but they didn’t dampen our spirit. Amidst the sadness and pain of seeing the images of the bombing on TV, stories of good Samaritans helping one another shine through. Knowing that there were runners finishing the race and running to the hospital to donate blood gives me chills. Strangers opening their homes to those displaced bring tears to my eyes. We all have our differences, but when the going gets tough, we band together as the people of the great nation that we are. And I am prouder than ever to call myself an American, and a runner, today.
PS. Please forgive any grammatical errors, and run-on sentences. I wrote this as the words came to me, and didn’t want to edit to not lose what I was trying to say.
PSS. I know it has not been confirmed that this was a terrorist act, but no American would do this, to this event, and this city, so I am assuming that it was.