Boston Marathon 2013

"If you are losing faith in human nature, go out
and watch a marathon" - Kathrine Switzer

Late yesterday afternoon (UK time), I excitedly loaded the Boston Marathon website, entered my friend's name, and that of another runner from the group of runners I've just started getting to know, and for the next 3½ hours - on and off - I excitedly watched little animated stick figures moving along a map, with 5km time splits of their performance. It was exhilarating - both were on for a good personal best at the halfway point, but both struggled in the latter stages; at times I wanted to yell at the computer screen "Come on, John! Come on, James!" - even more so when I found out that famous ultra-runner Dean Karnazes was running, and was in a head-to-head race with John for some of the middle stages.

I excitedly joined in on conversation with other runners on facebook, who were watching what I was watching, and when both finished, we were triumphant and excitable. It was almost like we were there, each step of the way. We knew what each had gone through to get there (Boston Marathon has strict qualifying times, it's not a race you get into easily) and what their journeys had been. We knew what a special race it was, and we were thrilled.

Afterwards, the chat continued online; we were on a high, I think, and waiting to see how long it would take for John and James to post their thoughts. It didn't take long, though, for the awful news of the explosions at the finish line to filter in. Nerves kicked in, and people desperately reached out for news on our friends; the runners, and their partners who were supporting and cheering from the sides.

Thankfully, they were fine. But we quickly realised there'd been fatalities, and serious injuries. Watching the TV coverage came next - and shock and heartbreak. I haven't been running very long, and I'm not any good at it, and don't much enjoy it at the time, but I could immediately put myself at the scene, and almost feel what the runners out there must have been feeling. The running community is strong, and a cowardly attack like this will not stop runners from lacing up their trainers and hitting the streets, but you can't help but think about all those stories out there. All those people who have trained for YEARS to get to Boston, all those who ran in wind, rain, hail, snow, sun, heatwaves, freezing temperatures... They'll have spent the last couple of weeks tapering, feeling anxious, planning their race clothes and nutrition needs, and so on. Raising money for charities with deep meaning to them. Families standing on the side of the route, to cheer on friends and loved ones. In one horrific attack, for some families, life will never be the same.

My thoughts are with all those affected, and my own races ahead. I hope I can draw on the way I feel today, to push myself through tough runs, and to overcome doubts. I run, and I will keep running.