My heart is heavy.
This is the only fully formed thought I have to process how I’m feeling right now. My heart is heavy, and there are no other words I have to explain what I am feeling.
Yesterday started the same as Marathon Mondays of my past – early breakfast at my in-laws and a walk to Mile 8 with friends. This was my second viewing since I had ‘become’ a runner, and the first time watching while so close to the end of training for an event. My excitement for my upcoming race feeding off the energy of the day.
We set up camp at our regular spot & got ready to cheer. First, the handcarts & wheelchairs fly by. Then the elite women blaze past, followed shortly by the elite men. I love clapping and whistling for them, but my true joy comes when the ‘real’ runners start passing us. The ones who train while working full-time jobs. The ones who fundraise to honor or support a loved one. The ones who’s place I wanted to be in next year.
Over the past two years, I have been making this journey to ‘become’ a runner. I have always thought that someday I would run Boston with my Team In Training family. Yesterday may have rocked those beliefs, but my training has taught me to endure. To push harder in that moment you feel the weakest, and finish stronger for it. As a runner, yesterday hit closer to home than I would have thought. And as a runner, I know how strong we are to go beyond this.
Marathon Monday was a day when all of Boston came together. To line the streets. To cheer for the ordinary people who are doing something extraordinary. To celebrate a day when anything is possible.
I hope and believe that Marathon Monday will still be that day. Distance runners train to endure. Bostonians are salty, full of grit and determination. Someone picked two very wrong crowds to mess with.
We run in Boston. We run for Boston.
But today, my heart is heavy.