A Marathon Wake Up Call

Up. Down. High. Low. Jazzed. Blase.  Some days, I make myself dizzy by how wishy-washy I can be. 

I want to be fit. I want to be healthy. I want to recapture those days not-so-long ago when I could fly around the track...or around the hilly neighborhoods of my little town...or down Peachtree Street during the Bucket List race I'd been training so hard for.

I want to run again.

I always seem to be on the verge of getting started again.  Always at the start of another foray into the lifestyle that will get me there.  Never halfway through.  And certainly never close to the Finish Line of this race I have set for myself.

The Finish Line.  That hallowed ground that all people, whether runners or not, aspire to.  We all want to get there....we all want that feeling of accomplishment that comes with a job completed. It is the Mecca of all journeyers....whether they are runners, or not.

But to a runner....it is so, so much more.  The Finish Line is sacred.  It is Holy Ground.  It is not merely symbolic; it is a tangible, visible goal that we shed literal blood, sweat and tears for months and in some cases (certainly in Boston's) years to reach.  And no Finish Line is more holy, more symbolic, than the one in Boston.  The Boston Marathon is not simply entered.  It is earned.

Yesterday, that sacred symbol was tarnished.  Bloodied is probably a more apt adjective, considering the loss of life and limb, the wounding of so many on a physical level....and so many more on an emotional one.  Whether Bostonian or not...whether a runner or not....we grieve the loss of innocence that came with the detonations yesterday at that holy Mecca.  No longer will eager, cheering throngs easily gather at any sporting event, anywhere, to celebrate the triumph of the human spirit without the spectre of death and destruction looming over them. Aside from the loss of life, that may be the the greatest tragedy of all. 

And yet, that human spirit will triumph.  The looming spectre of possible disaster will not keep us at bay, it will not prevent us from striving to attain that goal, any more than it will keep those who cheer us on from turning out en masse to do so in the future, in person, at that very same Finish Line where yesterday's tragedy unfolded.  If anything, it will cause us to become even more determined; more dedicated to our sport, and ourselves;  more driven to prove to ourselves, and to the world that we will not be moved... not by the cowardice of terrorism.  Even so, we will never cease to move toward that Finish.

My prayers are for all of those in Boston; the families who lost loved ones, or are even now holding bedside vigils with the wounded, or helping them to recouperate.  For all those around the country and the world who were affected in any way by this stupid, senseless tragedy.  For all the runners who pound the pavement day in and day out with dreams of their own personal Mecca dancing in their heads...that they will never give up reaching for that Finish Line.  And for me....that this will serve as a desperately needed wake-up call. 

It is not too late. There is still time to feel the wind in my hair again and the pavement ticking away under my feet, and the song in my heart that lets me know that my own human spirit is still triumphant.