Pondering Boston

The Boston Marathon is the second-best event I've ever seen, second only to the Comrades Marathon in South Africa.  What makes both of these events so special is that the connection between the families and communities on the race route and the runners in the race.  Boston has been an annual event since 1897 and I would bet that there are four and five generations of some families who have cheered on runners.  Every year I go, whether the weather is beautiful or a downpour or blazing hot, all along the race course, through small towns and wooded rural areas, there are tens of thousands of families with mom and dad slicing oranges and pouring water into cups and the kids passing them on to the runners--for hours.  And in the big city of Boston, the enthusiasm of the support for runners is just as strong.  A waitress will add a note to the check: "Good Luck, Guys!"  Young couples will see you hobbling the day after the race and stop to ask," Did you run it?" and then, always, "Congratulations!"

That is what the Boston Marathon means to me.  Still.  It is not only all the things that make any marathon challenging and difficult and rewarding, it is that succession of communities and individuals that make Patriots Day a day when those of us lucky enough to be out on the pavement get to experience the thoughtfulness, encouragement and support of complete strangers.  Half a million of them. 

The bombings last Monday may have been meant as a political statement, or could be the result of a mental disease, or could be something else entirely.  I don't see how that matters much.  We know it will not damage or undermine either the City of Boston or the running community long-term.  (If Oppositional Defiant Disorder had a favorite city, it would be Boston, and if it had a favorite sport, it would be distance running.)  Boston is Strong--the new phrase is not so much a slogan as a reminder of what we already knew.

I also am trying to bear in mind what else I already know.  I know what I believe to be right and wrong; I know what sort of life good people choose to live; I know, between selfishness and thoughtfulness, which is the better way and which is the harder way--because they are the same.  It doesn't take two assholes with explosives for me to see what's important in life.  My response to those turds is to scrape them off the bottom of my shoe and move on as if they never happened.  If I end up doing some things that are worth doing from here on out, it's because of the good people I've seen everywhere I've been.  Those of the people who have made the real statement.