Monday, April 15, 2013

A Runner's High and Heartache

This is not the post I expected to write today. Today was my last day teaching a 5k class at the homeschool group. My students completed a 5k today. I had one sick and one injured student, but the other 14 ran/walked/finished a 5k within the class period. For some of them it was their first 5k. For others, it was just a chance to stretch their legs. My top runner came in under 23 minutes and runs barefoot. My second runner took several minutes off his PR. Everybody finished. It was an exciting day for me. I don't feel qualified to teach a running course. I run for my own joy, and that's what I wanted to share with my students.

The weather was great. 60s and windy. I made cookies.
I brought bananas. My running club, GRC, donated bags and stickers. I ordered medals, which I love, and I medaled the students when they crossed the finish line. I hooted and hollered when they finished. I tried to simulate that race feel. The joy of a race. That feeling of accomplishment. The love of running.

An hour later, one of the other moms told me about Boston. I felt like I got hit in the gut. I couldn't believe it. My heart hurt more and more. I could tell I was spiraling down when I heard there were fatalities. When we pulled in the driveway, one of my favorite running songs came on the radio - Switchfoot's "Dare You to Move." I completely lost it. Tears and gasps. Why would anybody target a marathon? Why would somebody try to destroy something I love so much? The Boston Marathon is something I know I will never run, but I respect it dearly and the event staff and the runners and the spectators who support the runners and the city.

I've been soaking in the media information intermittently today. It's overwhelming. Horrible. My heart truly breaks. I can tell that I'm moving through different stages of grief too. I feel helpless. I've been praying. I'm terribly angry. Right now, I want to make shirts that say, "I am a runner, and I'm pissed off." Don't mess with my love of running. I'll keep praying. Try to find some way I can help. Pray some more. And grieve. And run. And run.


  1. I've spent today spiraling through the same range of emotions. Terror and grief and anger and confusion. I don't understand. I will never understand.

    But run on we will...

  2. (And the cookies and the medals are awesome!)