When I first started this blog, I had been running regularly for several years. One of my first posts was about how moving to Madison made me finally love running. And I still get pumped. My fastest and easiest to write post was the one where I wrote about how I started getting into it. If you look back at that post today, you will see what inspired me to run in a marathon. I was living in Boston and was watching the event in the spring of 2003.
Here is what I told you about the event back in 2011:
Let me tell you about the Boston Marathon. It is one of the ultimate marathons because unlike most marathons, you have to qualify for it [unless you do one of those “Team in Training” type of fundraisers.] For example, if I wanted to participate in it, I would have to run a previous marathon at about an 8.40 pace. [Dad – you would need to complete one at a 10.8 minute pace, so you should really consider it. Just saying]. So, I watched the marathon and said, “I can do this” and then I signed up for one and started training.
I was motivated to push myself. Watching a marathon, especially as a runner [even an amateur like myself] is like nothing else I can describe. Participating in a race is such a great feeling. Well - at the end anyway. There is nothing like finishing a race and rewarding yourself with a beverage and feeling all sore and worked hard. The physical goodness. It's just a remarkable feeling.
That finish line. That's where you want to be. When I went to New York to watch my sister Leslie run in the marathon, I described the emotions you feel as someone who has raced.
When I reflect on my run in the marathon, I get very emotional. I didn't then, but I do now. In 2007, my sister ran the New York marathon. I flew in to watch her. As I got off the subway, and entered the street, searching for my sister, tears streamed down my face. It was a beautiful moment, all of these people who all experienced the same grueling training, pushing their bodies to do things God did not intend to put us on this planet for. I completely connected with, and understood their feelings. It was also beautiful because there are few times I have ever been surrounded by so many people, in a large city, who have all come together for a joyous event, in a city that was terrorized. I cried a lot that day. I felt for the runners, and I think it was the first time that I ever realized what I had accomplished four years earlier
There really is something to be said about the beauty of a marathon. What happened on Monday in Boston is so sick. I feel for everyone who was there or had any connection. Let's keep the spirit of running a joyous one. There's nothing in my life that brings me the physical and mental pleasure that running does.