Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Growing up in the Boston area, "Boston" holds a special place in my heart. I may never have run it, but my ex did, four times, and his father did many times. It can be a family tradition in Boston, with generation after generation cheering and running. The 8-year-old who was killed could have been a marathoner one day.
I've stood on the course cheering the runners more times than I can count. I've driven over the course, imagining each water stop as if I were running it; watched the weather for Patriot's Day to see if it would be a "run for the hoses" or if the silver blankets with the unicorn logo would come out at the end of the race. (You can also recognize anyone who has run Boston, anywhere in the world, by their jacket with the unicorn.) Every year, we remembered those who had run: old Johnny Kelly, Boston's own Bill Rodgers, Mayor Ray Flynn, the Hoyts father and son, Kathrine Switzer who was shoved off the course by race official Jock Semple in the days before women were allowed to run, even Rosie Ruiz who "won" after jumping in, somewhere in Brookline. So many dreams, so many stories.
I pray that one tragic incident won't destroy all that and leave us remembering, instead, the ugliness of one or a few human souls.