True story. During my first half marathon at Disney, I rounded the corner of mile 5 and took a walk break. I saw a woman in the crowd, a spectator by herself, and she yelled at me "what are you doing Lisa? You didn't come here to walk did you? Get moving!" Two things immediately went through my head: how do you know my name, and why the hell are you yelling at me? I stopped right in front of her. She put her hands on my shoulders and said "this is what you came here for! Run girl, you're doing great!" I high-fived her and I ran faster.
Another true story. At mile 6 of that same race, I got behind a fellow runner. She had a certifiable marathoner's body. Beautiful, long, and lean. A body that you mostly saw way ahead of my pack. And I noticed she was coughing. Coughing blood. And that's when I noticed that she was bald under her running cap. She was suffering from something terrible. Something I assumed to be cancer. She bowed out right before we reached the Magic Kingdom. I cried. Hard. Then a stranger yelled "Don't cry Lisa, you made it to the Magic Kingdom!" I cried harder and ran faster.
I then realized that's why they put your name on your bib. So spectators can cheer for you. People you don't know, who line the race route to cheer for their loved ones also cheer for everyone else in the race. It's a beautiful beautiful thing.
During that race, and every race since, I have been inspired by the circumstances of people that surround me. I've seen a couple running with t-shirts that say "We are running in memory of our Anna" with a picture of a beautiful toddler whose life was cut short by leukemia. I met a young couple who had written on their legs in markers "We are running in honor of our son with autism." I bonded with those people for a mile and we left each other in shared tears of pride, sorrow, and a renewed desire to succeed for our afflicted children. I've seen groups of women holding hands and crying, and while not knowing their exact reasoning, I was moved by their solidarity. I am brought almost to my knees whenever I see a runner in a wheelchair, some peddling with their arms because they are amputees.
During that race, and every race since, I have been inspired by the circumstances of people that surround me. I've seen a couple running with t-shirts that say "We are running in memory of our Anna" with a picture of a beautiful toddler whose life was cut short by leukemia. I met a young couple who had written on their legs in markers "We are running in honor of our son with autism." I bonded with those people for a mile and we left each other in shared tears of pride, sorrow, and a renewed desire to succeed for our afflicted children. I've seen groups of women holding hands and crying, and while not knowing their exact reasoning, I was moved by their solidarity. I am brought almost to my knees whenever I see a runner in a wheelchair, some peddling with their arms because they are amputees.
Everywhere you look you see stories of inspiration, loss and triumph. And this, quite simply stated, is the universal reason why people run races. Races celebrate the best of people. Whether its reaching goals, raising money for a good cause, running in honor or memory of someone; everyone has a story and a reason. And everyone has spectators cheering them on. Strangers and loved ones alike celebrate this trial with the runner. It's part of the magic and romance of a long distance race.
And this, this is the beauty that someone tried to kill on Monday. They didn't try to kill the people. The way the bombs were made they were meant to injure, to maim,and in a horrific twist of irony, meant to sever limbs. They set out to kill the human spirit. And to kill the beauty and majesty of the marathon.
But much like 9/11, these disasters thankfully have the opposite effect. We do indeed mourn the tragic loss of life. But terrorists haven't figured out that these acts cause a surge of spirit and patriotism and a renewed sense of strength and passion for the very thing they try to destroy.
I've always respected and admired the tenacity, drive and dedication of a runner. It's part of the reason why I want to be one when I grow up. Runners have to carry a constant level of discipline that you know carries over into every other aspect of their lives. I found it oddly inspiring to see runners so close to the explosion still cross the finish line and reach down to tap their garmin. That's dedication I thought. That's love and respect for the sport. A sport that will carry on and triumph through life and adversity and way past 26.2 miles.
Quote of the Day: "And dying in your beds, many years from now, would you be willin' to trade ALL the days, from this day to that, for one chance, just one chance, to come back here and tell our enemies that they may take our lives, but they'll never take... OUR FREEDOM!"- William Wallace in Braveheart
Song of the Day:
"Carry on" - FUN
"Sweet Caroline" - Neil Diamond -->Go Red Sox!
That one brought me to tears.
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