Boston
A coworker asked me if what has happened in Boston has made me rethink running the Chicago marathon.
I looked at her as if she was crazy and said "hell no. I will run Chicago in part as a giant FUCK YOU to whoever thinks they can make people fear doing the things they love".
This senseless violence made me sad but then mad. Really mad. This feels personal. How could it not. It is Boston. It is running. Those runners are me. Those spectators are my family and friends. That race is my race. It is every runners race.
Every race, marathon or otherwise that goes on is in defiance of this horrific act of violence. I will not let something as horrible as this take away from my joy of running, make me fearful or strip away my identity as a runner. Until yesterday I had never, ever considered a race to be a target for violence, an unsafe place, anything but a celebration of the competition between fellow runners and more importantly the competition to quiet the little voice in your head that says you are tired, hungry, thirsty, sore- just give up.
Runners are a tough breed (strange but tough). The t-shirt that jokingly says my sport is your sport's punishment is funny because it is true. Runners actively choose to get out of bed at 4 a.m. to get twenty mile training runs in before heading to work. A large majority of runners have more toes than toenails. 26.2 miles- that is for fun.
The friends and family of runners are even tougher. They put up with the constant chatter about PRs, chaffing, race registrations, my left calf hurts, my right hamstring feels tight, blah blah blah, often times with no actual interest in running. They get up at 3:30 a.m. to drop their runner off at start lines. Stand around in the cold, heat, rain, snow to watch their runner complete a race- not even compete because most runners are not elites, they will not win, they will not even place in their age group. They are competing with themselves and completing goals. These people are all the work and none of the glory- no shiny race medal for dealing with a cranky runner after a long run. No t-shirt with the race logo on it for standing at a finish line for 4 and a half hours to give a sweaty, smelly runner a hug and make them feel like they have won.
One day I will run Boston. Maybe I will qualify. I might have to age into it. Maybe I will have to raise enough charity money to fund a small country to enter but I will run Boston. Because I am a runner and it is what we do. And when I am done running Boston I will cheer on my fellow runners because runners are family. And whether I am running Chicago, Boston or the local 10K I will be proud to be part of a community that runs towards helping others and instead of being a force of destruction, is a force for good, for building each other up and supporting each other in good times and in bad.
(And yes I torture everyone around me with my talk about running, not just my blog readers).
I understood the question. Chicago is a big race with a huge crowd in a big city not unlike Boston. Televised and watched by thousands. Many similarities. Enough to make someone hesitate for a moment.I looked at her as if she was crazy and said "hell no. I will run Chicago in part as a giant FUCK YOU to whoever thinks they can make people fear doing the things they love".
This senseless violence made me sad but then mad. Really mad. This feels personal. How could it not. It is Boston. It is running. Those runners are me. Those spectators are my family and friends. That race is my race. It is every runners race.
Every race, marathon or otherwise that goes on is in defiance of this horrific act of violence. I will not let something as horrible as this take away from my joy of running, make me fearful or strip away my identity as a runner. Until yesterday I had never, ever considered a race to be a target for violence, an unsafe place, anything but a celebration of the competition between fellow runners and more importantly the competition to quiet the little voice in your head that says you are tired, hungry, thirsty, sore- just give up.
Runners are a tough breed (strange but tough). The t-shirt that jokingly says my sport is your sport's punishment is funny because it is true. Runners actively choose to get out of bed at 4 a.m. to get twenty mile training runs in before heading to work. A large majority of runners have more toes than toenails. 26.2 miles- that is for fun.
The friends and family of runners are even tougher. They put up with the constant chatter about PRs, chaffing, race registrations, my left calf hurts, my right hamstring feels tight, blah blah blah, often times with no actual interest in running. They get up at 3:30 a.m. to drop their runner off at start lines. Stand around in the cold, heat, rain, snow to watch their runner complete a race- not even compete because most runners are not elites, they will not win, they will not even place in their age group. They are competing with themselves and completing goals. These people are all the work and none of the glory- no shiny race medal for dealing with a cranky runner after a long run. No t-shirt with the race logo on it for standing at a finish line for 4 and a half hours to give a sweaty, smelly runner a hug and make them feel like they have won.
One day I will run Boston. Maybe I will qualify. I might have to age into it. Maybe I will have to raise enough charity money to fund a small country to enter but I will run Boston. Because I am a runner and it is what we do. And when I am done running Boston I will cheer on my fellow runners because runners are family. And whether I am running Chicago, Boston or the local 10K I will be proud to be part of a community that runs towards helping others and instead of being a force of destruction, is a force for good, for building each other up and supporting each other in good times and in bad.
You put my feelings into words! Miss you girl. . . and AMEN on all that^^^
ReplyDeleteYes, yes, yes! This is exactly how I feel. I so agree with you on the friends and family of runners being tougher. My poor boyfriend wakes up at crazy hours of the morning to drop me and my insane friends off at start lines and deals with emergency bathroom stops, nervous chatter and lots of "here, hold this" comments before we ever get to a race. Once there, he takes on the role of cheerleader and photographer. He doesn't like running. He's never run a race. But, he puts up with all of this, to support me and my running friends. And, I know he's not a rare case. All friends and family do this. Every one along the finish line does similar things or they may even not know anyone at a race and just come out to support everyone. And, that is the part that makes me so mad. Don't mess with these people! They are amazing, wonderful and strong.
ReplyDeleteYeah Bean! Go and crush Chicago on behalf of those Boston runners!!
ReplyDeletePerfect post! And I second that FU.
ReplyDeleteYou make an excellent point about what our supporters go through to support us and they don't even get a t-shirt for the effort. That's one thing I'm really struggling with right now - how selfish I feel for being a runner and putting my family through what they do. Now, more than ever, I'm not sure they would stop - I think they want to send as much of a message as I want to send! (((Hugs))) I really wish I could hug all my blogger friends in person right now.
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