on boston

Before April 15, I had planned to write a post about how I no longer expect to qualify for Boston, about what it feels like to let go of a goal, about how maybe trying to qualify wasn't very realistic to begin with, especially since it would mean taking an hour and two minutes off of my best marathon time. I can see 10 minutes maybe, perhaps even 15. But more than an hour? You've got to be kidding me.

But then the bombing happened. And it made me sick to my stomach. I still cannot fathom how someone can hurt innocent people -- look them in the eye, even -- in the middle of what can only be described as a celebration. How dare someone punish another person for not only dreaming big, but working hard to make that dream a reality. How dare someone destroy others for being proud of their loves ones, for supporting and encouraging and wanting the best. 

It is disgusting.

And it makes me want to cross that finish line. Because we deserve that dream. No matter how fast we run or how our bodies are shaped or how old we are or where our lives have taken us. If we want to cross that finish line, we deserve the chance to try.

Boston, I'm coming for you. I don't know when it will be or how long it will take me. My hair may be grey and I may be pushing a walker (if I run using a walker, does that make the walker technically a runner?), but I'm coming.