Day 5: After seeing Boston, nothing feels so important right now.

Gulfport, Mississippi---Sitting in my friend Sharon’s hotel room I watched reports of the Boston Marathon bombings unfold yesterday.  Switching between TV stations and Facebook on my phone I feel like so many others who are posting.
The first thing I thought was who is there that I know.  Who went? Pam was my trainer once, Bill was in my Rotary, and others start popping up in Facebook. They are okay. Beverly, my first marathon partner, is not there but has two relatives running it. They are okay.

This event feels way too close to home. I ran my first Marathon 11 years ago. I’m a slow pacer but love the challenge, the distance and the camaraderie. The actual event, even though it’s grueling, is the icing because it’s so much fun. All those great people in the Daytona Track Club and the Galloway running group, it could have been any one of the relatives of our runners.

After participating in 14 marathon events (full and half’s) it hit home more than ever before. Those Daytona runners who happened to be in Boston this year were some of my heroes in the sport.  I found myself bawling over the news this morning. The amazing running community, the sacred sport of running and the festival and party-like atmosphere of marathon events will forever be changed even though we all want to cling to the thought that we don’t want it to be changed.

The one thing I could think of to do was to put on my running shoes and run Mississippi’s coastal sidewalk. Run for the victims. Run for those who didn’t get to finish. Run in defiance of this hideous crime. Run because I live in America and I still want to run with no worries that bad things will happen.

So no matter the distance, no matter fast paced or slow shuffle, I encourage everyone to go out and run.

Run for Boston.