Until you’ve done it, you don’t fully know what it’s like to sacrifice your evenings to get to bed early to get up at dawn to run for hours, to swallow a gel because you have nothing left physically but you have to keep going, to have aches and pains in muscles you never knew you had. We get it. We have a connection no one else has. Every marathoner is part of a very exclusive group. We’re a family.
My family was attacked on Monday. After all the work they’d done, all the sacrifices, all the pain, their accomplishment was overshadowed by a horrible tragedy at the place that should have been full of joy, a place that represents overcoming. Running is my safe place and that has been stolen from me. I ran last night for Boston and cried while running for the first time ever. I know we’re stronger than this, I know we’ll get through it. But it hurts.