I'm still so sad about this.
I don't mean to sound insensitive, but whenever I read about most tragedies that happen - I can get through an article without feeling like I'm going to break down. Sure, I'm absolutely heartbroken for the victims & can't begin to imagine the pain their friends and families are feeling - but this time it's is different for me. Every article I read, every news story that comes on my tv... they all bring me to the verge of tears every. single. time.
Seeing the face of little Martin Richard puts a lump in my throat. Hearing about how the parents of Krystle Campbell thought their daughter was alive, only to find there was an identification mix up on the way to the hospital makes me nauseous.
How could this happen?
Runners are a family. We're soulmates. When you run past another runner on the sidewalk, you smile. You nod. You high five. This has affected our happy little community in the most horrific way possible. You might not know a single person who ran Boston personally, but as a runner - you feel like you know every single one of them. At least I know I do.
And the thing that absolutely sickens me about all of this is that a majority of these victims weren't even there to run the race that day. They were there to support their friends and family members who worked so hard to qualify for that sacred race. They were there to show love and support and encouragement, and THIS is what happened to them. This morning, I read about the man who was at the race to cheer on his girlfriend and had to have a leg amputated due to his injuries. You've probably seen his picture. He's the one being pushed in the wheelchair by Carlos Arredondo (the hero in the cowboy hat).
I read things like that, and I can't help but think of the times I've begged my boyfriend and my mom and my dad and my friends to come watch my races. I cannot fathom the grief these runners feel who had a spectator there for them that fell victim to these horrible events. It makes me so sad that I can't even express it. It makes me so angry that I can't even express it.
And Bill Iffrig - the 78 year-old who was finishing Boston in a little over four hours - was knocked down by the blast, got up, refused a wheel chair, and walked six blocks to his hotel. Those stories of strength bring me to the verge of tears, as well. How about the runners who KEPT RUNNING past their 26.2 goal to go and donate blood? It's unbelievable. Heroes came in all shapes and sizes that day.
When I run Pittsburgh on May 5 - every single step I take will be for the victims who were lost, the victims who are injured (both physically and emotionally), and this beautiful, positive community that I am so proud to be a member of. I will slap as many hands as I can to thank the spectators for supporting us during this incredibly difficult time. I can't even imagine how much more I will appreciate every smiling face I see alongside the road that day. Running might not be a team sport, and I say that all the time, but right now - we're all a team. The runners, the spectators, the race directors - we are all in this together.
I'll think of Boston every time I run.
No Matter What - Keep Running,
Kelli
