Run Streak Day 476

Today is the day after my second marathon and I am the walking wounded.  Seriously, it hurts like hell to walk. I considered taking the day off from work but decided it was probably a better idea to move around. So I got dressed and tried to walk out to my car.  Ouch.  Got to work and looked at my office on the 2nd floor and cringed.  I let the kids go ahead of me because I wasn't sure how the hell I was going to get up there.  I got up there.  Yeah it took awhile but I did.  Going down, well that was more painful than going up.

I went about my day doing things that I normally had to do and a bunch of people asked if I injured me leg, including my big boss.  I found that the longer I sat with my legs hanging the worse the pain was when I tried to stand up and move so I decided to move as much as I could.

Then I began reading the messages on Facebook about the Boston Marathon bombing and even a call from my mom to tell me about it (that's how you know it's big news).  From the moment that I learned about the bombing I have been totally disturbed.

I posted a picture yesterday of my family meeting me at the finish line.  This picture is priceless to me because it signifies everything that is good in my life, everything that I have worked so hard to become.  This image has come back to me time and time again today, haunting me. I kept thinking about all the runners in the Boston Marathon who worked so hard who made so many sacrifices, whose families made so many sacrifices, who were there at the finish line to celebrate something so magical.  Because of today, something so special will always be tainted.  It is horrifying.  They have been robbed of something they earned and we don't know why and may never know why.

I am relatively new to the running community. I have only been racing for two years.  It is not a fraternity I have ever thought I would be a part of.  I am not a runner, I thought.  I am not good enough. I am not fast enough. I cannot run far.  In the two years that I have been running I have met incredible people.  People who are generous, knowledgeable, incredible!  People who have taught me so much and  have given to me with no ask for anything in return.  Think of the Honolulu Marathon Clinic who trains and provides refreshments for free.  Think of all the volunteers at races who wake up before the sun to pass out water and cheer strangers on.  Think of the runners on the course who beat your ass on the road then wait at the Finish Line to cheer you on.  The camaraderie is amazing.  I think of the runners I have met in real life and in the virtual world and I am amazed at the heart, spirit, will, determination that these people have  and it PISSES THE SHIT out of me that anyone would callously target then to make whatever sick point they feel they need to make.

And yet, in many ways their miscalculation is ironic, for they truly messed with some bad mutha fuckahz, because you have to be of strong mind, spirit, and will to run 26.2 miles and these sick bastards have truly under estimated just what it takes to run a marathon.  Because running a marathon is not for sissies.  A marathon is a strong that only another marathoner can understand.

A popular marathon quote comes to mind:

"At mile 20 I thought I was dead.  At mile 22 I wished I were dead. At mile 26 I realized I was too tough to kill."

This truly captures the spirit of a marathoner.  Something about enduring those 26 miles and battling with yourself in your head, fighting through the pain makes you tough as hell and a tragic event like this will not stop the running community.  Already there are movements of people planning to wear their running shirts and working on qualifying for the Boston Marathon next year to show solidarity and to fight back.  Standing united, showing no fear, it is awesome coming out of such a sad, tragic event.

Three years ago I would have viewed this event as tragic but I would have been far removed. Today I take the attack personally and plan on striking back.  It is doubtful that I will be able to run the 3:45 time needed to qualify for Boston in my age group but I will be DAMNED if I will let any insane bastard rob me of my passion and the freedom to run free and wild. I will be DAMNED if I shield my kids from learning to love to run because it is dangerous.

Today the passion burns brighter than ever and I will share it with the world.  If more people were high on running endorphins the world would be a better place.

And so, on this day, the day I planned to end my 475 day running streak I pushed through the pain, put on my shoes and hobbled, shuffled, and walked at times through my one mile run.  It was ugly but I sure as hell hoped that everyone passing me in their cars saw me running.   I hoped they looked at me as a crazy injured hobbling runner running through the pain and kicking some ass. I hope they understood just why I was out there running. And I sure as hell hope that tomorrow we'll see race shirts at work and on the road and a helluva lotta people hitting the payment.