Tuesday, April 22, 2014

A Little Bit of Boston


I plan on writing a whole, feature length recap of the Boston marathon.  Maybe I'll even pull a J.K. Rowling, and split it up into a seven part series.  I mean, it was that good.

But what kind of blogger would I be if I didn't jot down a little teaser here from my hotel room, as I sit here eating dried mango (the only thing I can think about without vomiting a little).  I took my social media duties very lightly this weekend, so this is the least I can do.

But all jokes aside, this race was every bit as amazing as the ABC specials made it sound like it would be.  And if we're being really honest, I don't think I could really do it justice without coming off like a huge cheeseball.

I mean, if you're anything like me, hearing about this kind of thing secondhand doesn't do much for you.

Honestly, before I got here, I really wasn't expecting to be moved.  Don't get me wrong; when I heard about the bombings last year, it hit me pretty hard.  Those could have easily been people I knew and loved.  The senselessness and unfairness of it made me angry.

But the whole "running community coming together" thing sounded more like a good TV trailer than real life.

Turned out, I was wrong.  It hit me as I was walking down to the starting line, a mile hike from "Athletes' Village" through a local neighborhood.  Specifically, it hit me when I saw a little kid from one of the surrounding houses reach out and give presumably his dad (or some very friendly older man) a hug over the railing.

I think what struck me was just the genuine goodness of it.  I didn't know most of the 36,000 or so runners there, but the runners I did know are good people.  They are welcoming and warm and dedicated in a way that you don't find a lot.

And the thing about marathon runners in particular is that the act of running a marathon is such a personal and inspiring thing.  When you run a marathon, it really isn't about the people around you.  (Unless you're Rita Jeptoo; then it is.)  But for most of these people, pushing yourself literally to your body's limit is a battle against yourself and a battle to find strength that you're not sure you have.

It sounds incredibly corny, but it's a hard thing to describe from a Double Tree coffee table.  I guess all I can say is that I am not an incredibly religious person.  Not incredibly religious in that I have a hard time with faith of any kind in general.  But I do know that at mile 18 of a marathon, I feel closer to God than I feel in any church.

For anyone to try to take that from this group of people is so, so wrong.  Seeing these people come together a year later was the most beautiful and heartbreaking thing I have experienced.

Again, here I am being Sappy McSapsterson.  And I do apologize; that's not what I'm known for around the web.  Blame it on the endorphins; they're messing with my hormones.  Or something.  Science.

I'll leave it here now with this before I get your keyboards any stickier with all my sap.  Although I promise, I have a lot more pictures to share of me forcing a cheesy smile in front of a lot of blue things.  But I have a flight to catch and sore calves to massage, so they'll just have to wait.

Tuesday.  Get it.



Want more tea? Have a second cup!
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