There are not enough answers at a time like this. I've been thinking about yesterday's events and reading updates online. I didn't know if I should write a post about Boston. I wasn't there.
But tonight I saw something on my walk from work to the bus that encouraged this post. A small group, maybe eight runners, gathered on the lakefront path near Ohio Street beach. I was wearing running gear having finished a late afternoon run towards the end of the work day. I glanced the group's way as I walked by. When I saw the flag, I smiled. It touched me. Then a guy from the group smiled back and asked "want to run with us?"
Had I not crossed paths with them with a backpack, purse and rain coat, maybe I would have joined the group. After all, the idea of running with strangers isn't really strange at all. That's the beautiful thing about running. We can all do it.
Which lead me to think as I continued my walk to the bus. Where would I be without running?
I would know less people. I would have fewer stories and memories. I would have laughed less.
I would have gone on fewer trips. I wouldn't have foam rolled. Or gu'd. Or drank three the night before a race.
I wouldn't have gotten up before the sun on weekends to meet with dozens of people who were once strangers, but now my friends. Some of my closest friends.
I would have never experienced an entire city coming together, through its dozens of neighborhoods, to act as one on race day. People that have never met me would not have cheered for me. I would have never felt the overwhelming since of pride for my city the way that I do on race day. I would have never known how it feels to cross the finish line of a marathon.
It's hard to even imagine. Where would I be if running hadn't made me?
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