I’m overwhelmed with emotion with what occurred Monday during the Boston Marathon. Thousands trained hard to qualify and earn the highly-coveted spot – to run in the Boston Marathon. Thousands of spectators – family, friends, strangers all cheering for those running. Hundreds injured, several deaths, thousands robbed of their dreams, a city and a country grieving and the rest of the world mourning with them.
All in one senseless, cowardly act of violence.
Monday, I tried to keep up with tweets and tried to watch the race live but I was at work. I cheered for Shalane and Kara and heard they’d finish top 10, then the next time I checked, I saw the breaking news of the bomb attacks. Family and friends kept calling and texting, kind enough to think of me, worried that I may have been in Boston that day. Monday I felt sad, the following day I simply felt angry. I’m slow and possibly never may qualify for Boston, but I wanted so bad to be there. I wanted to hug someone, to provide comfort, just to do something other than sit here and watch the news. There were those that were running in Boston’s honor but my body was too sore to run. I wore my half-marathon tech shirt to work yesterday to show my support. Today, I’m still in tears and very angry still.
In two weeks, I have another run. After I ran my first half marathon, there was nothing I wanted more than to have familial support and now I don’t want them there, all because someone decided to steal our joy. I have to protect them. I will still run, and again it’ll be only me, alone.
My thoughts and prayers are with you, Boston. xo