You Can't Take My Refuge

I know I’m not alone in saying that running is my refuge. It is my outlet, a way to let go and release, it’s something that makes me feel good both physically and about myself. You can’t run and stay mad. At the end of a run things are always better. Along with fitness (and my love of food), that is why I leave the house early in the morning and go for hours, come home tired and sore, and then go out and do it again... with a smile.

I once read that if you ever want to restore your faith in humanity, to go out and watch a marathon. It is hard to feel down when total strangers line up along the route to yell encouragement. Bands plays. People hand out water, sports drinks, snacks and even beer. Spectators dress up, hold signs and offer high fives. Even if you aren't feeling the run the course, especially the finish line, is a happy place. There is solidarity, fellowship. Everyone is there to celebrate that you are stronger than you thought possible. Crossing that finish line should be a high but yesterday the most prestigious one became a bloody crime scene.

World wide, Boston is a dream many runners work towards for years. All those people's hard work, sacrifice and determination was overshadowed by a terrible act of violence. But what makes me sick is that the people who were standing at the end to support and celebrate the achievement of their loved ones were so badly injured. I was not in Boston but this is "my community" and that could easily have been my family.

A friend shared that every race she runs, she dedicates each mile to a different person. It gives her something to focus on and fight for when her legs would rather give up. Next weekend I will be attempting to fulfill step one of my Boston Marathon goal, qualifying. One of my miles will be for Boston. Along with all of you... my small following. :-)  I love you!