A runner’s reflection

Yesterday’s news of the bombings in the final stretch of the Boston Marathon has shaken me. Like many runners, the shock of it all has been hard to comprehend. Although I am well-aware that it’s not just runners who are at a loss – this senseless act of terror has caused people from around the world to recoil in disbelief.

I’ve long thought of running as the happiest sport in the world. It’s a sport of individual determination and strength, but it’s also a sport where the participants all cheer for each other. We run alone, yet we run together. We compete against ourselves, not the person next to us. We share words of encouragement as we pass a slower runner, and we cheer on those who are faster than us. Slow, fast, young, old. We’re all in it together.

And it’s not just the runners who make the sport happy. It’s the cheerers, too. They line the routes of races around the world. They stand in the rain to cheer for strangers. They shout out encouraging words as you climb the steepest hills. The children stand with their hands extended, hoping for a high five from the runners going past. There are signs and banners and noise makers for people’s family and friends, yet they cheer for everyone who runs past.

And the volunteers are there, too. They wake up early to get the course ready. They pass out water and energy drinks and pick up the cups after you discard them on the side of the road. And they do it with a smile and more words of encouragement. And they stay there until the last runner has crossed the finish line.

Boston will change running. There will be runners who may never run again because of physical or emotional barriers. There will be spectators who become runners out of respect or remembrance. And there will be runners who will always wonder “whatif” it had been them.

I am a runner. I am a runner with a wild imagination and I must admit that every time I’ve lined up to start a big race, I’ve wondered “whatif” some lunatic decided to blow up the crowds. Sadly, now we know. We know that there is a moment of disbelief before the human spirit takes over and jumps to action. We know that when the unthinkable happens, the runners, the cheerers, and the volunteers all work together – with the wider community – to help their fellow man.

When I line up to start the Edinburgh Marathon next month, the events in Boston will be on my mind – along with most other runners that day, I’m sure. But I will still line up. And I will start my race. And I will finish my race. Just like I’m going to do in Balfron at the end of this month. Just like I’m going to do for all of the other races I have planned for this year and next.

My heart breaks for all of those affected by the tragedy in Boston. I pray that their healing is swift (emotionally, physically, and otherwise) and that their lives carry on with positive meaning.

And in the mean time, I will run. I will run for them and I will run to show those who wish to do us harm that they can’t scare me.

I am a runner, but I don’t run from fear, I conquer it.