I am a runner.
I run for many different reasons: Weight control, endorphins, the beauty of nature and the comradeship of other runners.
I have run a marathon.
A the age of 42, I ran the 2010 Marine Corps Marathon in Washington, DC. And I can’t begin to explain the joy I felt when I crossed that finish line. When the United States Marine put the finisher medal around my neck, I cried. Like a baby. Part of it was from the pain and exhaustion. But part of it was the overwhelming sense of accomplishment.
A bomb stole that from thousands of people yesterday in Boston. Worse, it stole the the lives from three people and the limbs from countless others. As Elton John once sang about another act of senseless violence, “Isn’t it funny how one insect can damage so much grain.”
I don’t know who planted the two bombs. I pray for swift justice for them. But I do know this, the spirit of the marathon survived the attack.
Marathons represent best of humanity; how mankind can overcome the harshest conditions. We saw that yesterday when the first responders rushed into action even before the smoke had cleared. We saw that when bystanders rushed into the crowd and helped the injured. We saw that when 78-year-old Bill Iffrig was knocked down by the concussion of the blast and got back up and finished the race.
The Boston Marathon will be like Bill Iffrig. It will get back up. And it will continue on. Because that’s the human thing to do. It’s how we show scum like the bombers that they will never succeed.
It’s how good wins the day.