Boston

I spent the easy 5 mile run today thinking about how wonderful it was that the weather was finally improving.  It was a mild 50 degrees and the sun was pushing its way out from behind the clouds.  I thought it was a perfect day for the Boston Marathon.

What can I say about the events that followed?  After September 11th, I experienced my own version of PTSD.  I used to love flying, but after the attack I developed a case of aerophobia.  I still flew, but I would have anxiety for the weeks leading up to the flight, all the way up until boarding the plane.  I made a conscious decision that I would prevail.  After all, I'm a New Yorker.  I loved travel too much, but more importantly, I didn't want to pass this fear onto my children.  I want them to see the world.  I made sure they never saw my distress.  I got over it eventually, but it took almost ten years.  However, I am still cautious and hyper-aware in crowds, particularly large organized events.  As much as I want to run in the New York City Marathon, I always thought I would be a little nervous in the crowd, particularly at the start and finish lines.  Too many people cramped in a closed off space.  What if something happened?  What if there was a terrorist attack?  I actually contemplated this.  

And then it happened.  I did not run Boston today, but everyone and their mother knew I am going to be running in it next year.  I was touched by the number of people who reached out to me today.  I am sickened by the violence.  I thought of the disabled veterans that I see running in most big races.  Soldiers who survived IED attacks.  I'm sure there were many in Boston today.  This was probably the last place they thought they would reencounter another bomb attack.  Then I heard this year's race was dedicated to the victims of the Sandy Hook tragedy.  Some of their families were at the finish line.  Another violent attack?  Just heartbreaking.  So far there are three deaths, one being an 8 year old boy.  I wonder if this child was there to cheer on his mother or father.  My children are always on the sidelines cheering me on.  I can't even imagine.  

What the hell is wrong with people?  

I saw this on a friend's Facebook page.  Perfect.