I am choked up tonight as I contemplate the people directly impacted by the tragedy that happened near the finish line of the Boston Marathon today. Death, injury and the ensuing panic are all, in varying degrees awful things, of course. However, I find myself especially moved because of my particular affinity to competitive running. To run is one thing. It requires devotion in dealing with the wide spectrum of weather conditions as well as the crushing lapses in motivation. The eventual build up to run in a massive theater of others who will call you insane for subjecting yourself to all this, is another.
I was nearly brought to tears at the finish line of my first half-marathon as I was donned with my finisher's medal. Emotions are in absolute surplus. To run twice that is nearly superhuman. No one should be able to keep their feet moving for 26.2 miles, yet incredibly, it happens. Given the sensory overload I'm familiar with, I still have difficulties fathoming what is going through these peoples' minds, crossing the finish line as complete terror erupts.
At the height of that euphoria today, something awful happened. My mind is at the end of today's finish line in Boston, admiring those superhumans.