Boston Marathon Results
Like everyone else, I have some thoughts on the Boston Marathon bombings.
I am a runner. Runners are different than a lot of athletes. We don't "shoot around" or "hit some balls" to get better. When athletes in other sports are being disciplined by coaches, the punishment may be to "go run." We do for pleasure what others do for pain.
We do it, for the most part, without coaches, teammates, or facilities. When we run, we don't hurt anyone else. No blocks, picks, hits, or tackles. If anyone hurts, it is us.
But mostly, when we run, with each step we leave things behind. Troubles at home. Excuses. And that second chocolate chip cookie.
When we run, we don't run with regret. We have no room for the weight of anger. We don't run with hate. We might run with music.
If we see another runner, we cheer them on with a nod and slight wave that says "I know what you're feeling. Ain't it great? Keep it up."
Runners represent good people. The ones who just keep running, or being good, for no other reason than that is who they are. Good people outnumber the bad. It was great to see how many good people were there to help others.
Who can hate a runner?
Strangely, I really don't want to know the identity of the bomber(s). I'll trust they will get theirs through some justice.
It would give me pleasure if the name of that animal were never released. I'd rather know the names of the runners. The names of those who lent a hand. The names of those taken away. The names of those who will never run again.
I want to go out running today. Among nature. With music. Alone. I want to qualify for the Boston Marathon someday and be among all those good people. Now, more than ever.
My running shoes hanging on my 1937 steel body resonator guitar
(Top photo by Reuters via The Guardian)