Running has always been my safe place. In it, I could lose myself in my feelings, thoughts, and emotions. From a pimply faced, pear shaped, angry adolescent to a vegetarian, marathoning father, I have always felt comforted no matter what challenges I faced physically and emotionally out on the roads and trails. That bubble was burst today.
Having had the chance to run my boyhood dream of the Boston Marathon in 2010, I have come to look forward to Patriots Day through social media to follow what some might call Christmas for runners. It's an exciting day, and my joy of seeing Shalane and Kara finish in the Top 6 of the race was decimated by news of a senseless act of violence at the finish line. Lives lost forever gone from the tribe.
We are all part of the same tribe. Pace, weight, height, distance covered are all irrelevant. When you lace up your shoes and head out the door for a run, you are part of the tribe. If you support that runner by standing at the finish line, handing out water at an aid station, or a word of encouragement from afar, you are part of the tribe.
If your like me, some of my strongest relationships have been forged out on the roads with fellow runners. We simply get each other. People from all different walks of life who we would probably not know elsewhere, we understand out there in the sweat and firing of muscles. It's that bond forged that makes an event like today so devastating.
Whatever message a person or group who felt they needed to do this to bring attention to their cause, they will get their 15 minutes of fame because that is what the popular media will give them. What they don't realize is that in attacking our tribe, we will circles the wagons and protect those out on the roads and trails. We will not relent and we will not forget.