I don't consider myself a runner. I've never used that term when describing myself, but running is what started my journey to health and obsession with fitness. Running is what I turn to when I am frustrated, mad, scared, nervous. Running is my therapy. It's my ME time. The miles that I've pounded out have helped shape me into the person that I am today. I wouldn't be me without running.
When I heard that explosions had happened at the marathon that I was excited about watching parts of when I got home from work, I went into a state of disbelief. I've never wanted to run a marathon and I know I would never qualify to run in Boston if I even wanted to. Training for a half marathon is hard enough for me. But the fact that someone attacked such a glorious event such as a race shocked me. I've ran races. I know the joy that comes with finishing one. I know the feeling of triumph that you've beaten yourself and all of the negative thoughts that you couldn't take one more step.
Yesterday, I realized, that I am a part of the running community, even if I've never really accepted myself into it. I've cheered on the sidelines of races and I've been cheered at. Our community is a huge one. It's also a strong one. We don't let ourselves be defeated and now, more than ever, the world will see this.
I've been reading running blogs religiously for the past couple of months and when I heard the news, I went to all of my regular blogs. Every single one of them had already posted their feelings on Boston. This is a community I am proud of be a part of, even if I've never truly considered myself a part of it.
I run to feel happy. I run to stay fit. I run to clear my mind. I run when I'm bored. I run even if I'm tired. I run until I'm done. I run to find peace within my thoughts. I run to feel my legs burn. I run with the one of the most amazing people I know. I run alone. I run even when I'm short on time. Today I ran for those who were in Boston. Today, that's the only thing that was on my mind as I pounded out a few short miles. My heart is broken and I feel as though I was personally attacked.
I may never run a marathon. I may never even return to Boston. But from now on, I might consider calling myself a runner simply because the strength and the courage of those I've seen on the news and through blogs make me proud that I, too, can say that I am a part of their community. My heart and soul pours out to them.