This weekend we are running a half marathon in preparation for our full in June. I would love to say that we have been running a ton, but we haven’t. We luckily found a training plan that let us cross train since our schedules enable us to workout at different times of the day. Every Saturday for the last few months we have gotten in our long runs together, side by side. Thanks to Mother Nature we spent more than a few hours on treadmills and finally ran a nice 13.1 on the trails a few weeks back. We are super excited to get racing again and my urge to set out my running clothes has overcome me since Wednesday. As I neatly laid out my running attire: shoes, socks, bandaids, and headbands, I thought of those runners who were running Boston – likely eager, proud, nervous. I thought about how hard they trained to not only run it but to qualify. I thought about the dreams they had to cross that finish line and get a medal proclaiming their completion. I thought about the spouses, children, parents, and friends of those runners who sacrificed time with their loved one as they trained for months on end. 

I thought of those fans who watched in awe as the runners finished the 26.2 journey. I thought about the signs encouraging them to keep on going, to push through. As someone who has ran a full marathon, I know how important each and every person is out there. Seeing the encouragement in the fans eyes, seeing the crowd ring their cowbells and shout out numbers, hearing the people as they tell you keep going. It is those people who keep your feet moving, who give you hope that you won’t die, and who fuel you to finish for them. Without those people in the crowds, a marathon would be just an exercise of self-abuse in the form of a large cult like group of runners who run crazy distance for the challenge. It is those people who get out of bed on that race day, dress warm, and get their voices ready to yell, cheer, and encourage strangers they have never even met. As they continue the cheers, chants, and high fives, they fuel the hearts of runners and give them the energy to keep on moving. “If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon.” As a runner, I know this to be true, it’s the spectators — who after the explosions ran towards the injured, helped remove the barricade, carried runners to the tents, and attempted to save others while putting their own lives at risk. 

As a runner, it was so heartbreaking to watch the events unfold. I sat and cried for hours. I knew the emotions that go into training for a full and how race day is when it all makes it worth it. I thought of all of the people who had traveled from far and wide to see the beautiful city of Boston and run a race that is so historical. I watched as runners frantically run towards the finish not knowing what happened. I thought about how that race will never be the same and how so many runners didn’t even get to finish. But most of all I watched as so many brave individuals went in to help, how there was beauty in the breakdown. Running this weekend will feel a little different, I will be praying for those affected each step of the way. We will be taking a moment of silence for Boston, we will think about how the world of running will forever be changed. We will dedicate our races to those who weren’t able to finish. 

These 13.1 miles are dedicated to those fans – the spectators that fuel the love for running. These 13.1 are dedicated to those who lost their lives in a senseless act. These 13.1 miles are for those who can’t run. These 13.1 miles will prove the love always overcomes. These 13.1 miles are a reminder of why I run. 

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