Boston Love.

I just want to get out how heartbroken I am because of the attack on Boston. I've cried a lot of admittedly unexpected tears over this...tragedies happen but honestly and cynically I support and pray for those involved yet my spirit screams for all of those that die every day from things like hunger and easily corrected medical issues - things that we KNOW about NOW but ironically, because it's a continual thing, we are numbed to it, we don't think about it, it's a normal part of life. However...this has hit home with me. Because I was there, because I understand, because it could have been me. When you are in Boston the week of the marathon...it's magical. There are so many people who are there, who have fallen in love with running. Who understand the freedom and the challenge and have that passion and dedication to literally go the distance. Everyone there has dreamed about that day, it's a wish come true whether you are racing or running for charity. It's a unifying event. Running is something that doesn't care about gender, age, race, religion, sexual orientation, political party, or social status. Those things don't come up when you show up at the starting line. What you do know is you are standing shoulder to shoulder with thousands of people who are there to celebrate the same thing you are there to celebrate. And you can feel the strength and support. And you run by the hundreds of people who have volunteered to give you a smile and a cup of water in the hopes that they make at least one of your steps a little easier. And you run by all of the people who come out of their homes to bust out their handmade signs (and hoses because it was freakin hot when I ran it last year) and stand there yelling at you, a complete stranger, for hours to keep going, that you're doing great, that YOU are actually the one inspiring them. For me to realize that someone decided to take away from this...I truly and completely cannot understand the reason. It's brought me to tears multiple times. To think that there was an innocent eight year old kid, waiting and watching and cheering excitedly for his daddy to cross the finish line...and that kid died in a second because someone out there is trying to prove a point that is insane.

I've been trying not to turn more cynical and depressed. I reach that point and I turn my angst into prayers to God. I refuse to let evil win. I refuse to turn into myself, I refuse to be scared into quietness, and you can bet that I'm going to run faster and harder when I think of the people who can't run anymore. And it comes full circle. That spirit of running I tried to describe earlier is the kind of support and love and strength we are supposed to be feeding to our fellow humans - not just Christians, ALL humans. The hungry, the poor, the rich, the self-centered, the liars, the prideful, the beautiful, the sick, the heroes and the villains and the seemingly hopeless. I want to run and fight for love and for God in a way that would only ever reflect Jesus and make my King and Father proud.

If there is a silver lining to this horrific tragedy, it is seeing a version of that same kind of outpouring of support and love from so many people that is boundless - comments from the old, young, rich, poor, Boston dwellers and people around the world, runners and not.