The Boston Marathon the Next Day

I’ve been a runner for over 30 years, and a spectator at many runs. The running community truly is a community. I value my runner friends for their cheerful attitudes and cooperative spirits. While each person must run alone, those of us who have been runners for many years know that there are times we wouldn’t get up at 5:30 a.m. or run those extra miles without the support of friends. Every running event is a happy gathering of runners and spectators cheering them on.

Today, that innocence has been taken away.

Today, I can’t quite reconcile the horrific image of the Boston Marathon with the happy image of running events that have been my experience all these years.

Today, I force myself to focus, not on the evil people who planted the bombs, but on the heroic people who ran to help. There were so many more of them than the sick and cowardly people who chose to kill and maim innocent people.

Today, I try not to think of the times (too many) recently that I’ve gotten emails from psychologists offering me articles with headlines such as “The Best Way to Talk to Children About Violence.” I wish there were no reason to talk to children about senseless violence.

Today, I’m angry for all the heartache caused by this tragedy.

Today, I’m angry that every time I run in a race, or cheer on my friends, I will think of this. As with every act of violence, a permanent scar is left.

Today, I sent an email to each one of my children telling them how proud I am of them, and how lucky I feel to be their mother. I’m not one to send maudlin messages out to my kids, but this time it just seemed like the only thing I could do.