As Chris and I get ready to fly out on Thursday to London so he can run the London marathon, I find myself glued to the TV, watching, listening to and reading everything I can about the senseless bombings that took place at the Boston Marathon yesterday.
Three years ago Chris ran that race. My sister and I drove around like mad women from point to point to follow him throughout the course–to include making a beeline for that last mile to watch him at the finish. As I watched the videos of the attacks yesterday, I couldn’t help but remember what it means to be a spectator. How excited you are for your runner or runners. How you scream and cheer until you have no voice. How your heart bursts with pride when you see your loved ones run by.
The fact that anyone would target innocent bystanders and people fulfilling the personal goal and dream of running a marathon—something people train for months, or even years, for—is disgusting. An 8-year-old child was among the three confirmed dead from the bombings. What right did he or she have to die?
These races have meant so much to Chris over the past five years—he’s now run New York, Boston, Chicago and Berlin. London will be his fifth (and what was to be his last, until they added Tokyo to the World Marathon Series at the beginning of this year)—and they’ve meant a whole heck of a lot to me, as well.
What happened yesterday will not stop us from heading to London on Thursday. It won’t stop Chris from running in that marathon, and it won’t stop me or his parents from running around the course to watch him–nor will it stop what I’m sure are to be the thousands of others who will be there as well.
But that’s the point, isn’t it? Terrorism is disgusting, vile and heartless … but it shouldn’t, and it won’t, stop us from living our lives.