Boston Marathon
I’ve been crying, on and off, all evening.
This afternoon, a twisted soul (or two or more, who knows?)
detonated bombs at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. As I type this, the casualty list is three
dead (an 8-year old among them) and 113 injured. Many grievously.
First, there was shock.
One would think we’d all be beyond shock at this point, given all the
cruelties of the world we witness each day.
Even so, I was shocked.
And then my heart broke.
I was a runner once.
I trained long and hard for many years in order to, someday, run a
marathon. And I did, eventually.
But that’s just scratching the surface.
There’s something about training one’s body to run 26.2
miles that goes far beyond physical exertion.
There’s that exploration of the mind, the heart and soul. There are the hours upon hours and the miles
upon miles spent questioning one’s abilities, all the time dreaming,
contemplating, observing...suffering and fantasizing.
More often than not, fantasizing about running Boston someday.
There are marathons and then there are marathons. Boston
was the ONE.
Every sport has its ONE: golfers have their Masters. Tennis players have their Wimbledon . Football players have their Super Bowl,
hockey players have their Stanley Cup and soccer players have their World
Cup. Athletes everywhere, regardless of
their chosen sport, have the ONE.
For runners, it was always Boston .
It was always Boston
because of its tradition. It was always Boston because one had to
qualify to even be granted the chance to run its fabled course. It was always Boston because the best
of the best made it the ONE.
For runners, it was always Boston .
And even though I was a runner, once, I knew I’d never make it
there. Sure, it hurts to discover one’s
limitations, but I learned a great deal as a runner. And I came into the company of runners who
could and did qualify for Boston . And I came to love those runners because I
was witness to their talent, their dedication, their love for the art of
placing one foot in front of the other with grace and velocity. As a runner, though artless as I was, I was
part of a community overflowing with admirable souls.
And each year, on “Patriots’ Day” I cheered as people I had
come to know, admire and love, gave Boston
what they had. Outcomes varied, as they
always do, but I had come to know something about the heart it takes to even
try and I admired them, envied them and loved them for their stalwart and
intrepid hearts.
A great many hearts were broken today.
Something far more than just another foot race was defiled,
bloodied, rendered a tragedy.
* * *
posted by Jonas | 4/15/2013 09:43:00 PM
8 Comments:
Terrorism is evil -- in market places, on buses and subways, anywhere. But taking aim at athletes and their admirers, people who strive for personal excellence is a perversity that is both evil and heart breaking.
Jon, thank you for your words. yesterday was a horrible day for our sport, our country, and for for all the victims. it is hard to process that one would create such a violent act on those who are typically loving, peaceful people.( as runners are) and as the runners we are, we need to reach to that place where we find our superhuman marathon strength, and show the world, that we will not allow this act stop us from our passion, our freedom, and our way of life.
Thank you for this. What that one family alone suffered is unbelievable. The Boston Marathon will live on. We will run faster, harder and more beautifully.
Thank you Jon.
It was sad. As someone with no TV or newspaper, I rarely even think to go get news on the internet. So...I was behind in learning of this tragedy. Entering community, there is a low hum, a kind of buzz, and you know that something big has occured. Pieces start to fall into place, I ask questions, I get answers. And yes, my heart breaks. So pointless. So cruel. I want to ask why, but it really doesn't matter. No answer will make it right. Hope you are otherwise well Jonas! My birthday is tomorrow. I didn't buy the Bonamassa ticket. I regret it now.
Can't comment on "Dreamin" but wanted to. I am so close to that song there was no need to play it. I know lyric and notes by heart. Wishing the hurt weren't present. Oh that dreams could take it. "♫When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
You roll outta bed and down on your knees
And for the moment you can hardly breathe
Wondering was she really here?
Is she standing in my room?
No she's not, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The giving up is the hardest part
She takes you in with your crying eyes
Then all at once you have to say goodbye
Wondering could you stay my love?
Will you wake up by my side?
No she can't, 'cause she's gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
Now do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Do i have to fall asleep with roses in my hand?
Would you get them if i did?
No you won't, 'cause you're gone, gone, gone, gone, gone....
When you're dreaming with a broken heart
The waking up is the hardest part
♫" - John Mayer
such a senseless tragedy.
Immensely overwhelming.
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