for the boston runners
The early morning news said it – about Boston last night, about the oldest marathon race in the world, about the finish line, about the explosion, about the panic, about death, about another blast, about losing limbs…
After our young lady went off to school, the three of us went for a run in the forest. Me, just shedding winter excess, Bella for fun and him, training for the upcoming Brussels 20 km end of May. Another famous road race with thousands of enthusiasts anticipating the finish line…
I did not particularly felt like running this morning.
Side stepping mud after the rain, hopping over roots, ducking pregnant branches (yes, spring is here!) the forest in, we went. Birds cheered, squirrels darted off.
This morning
I ran for all those who might have had their final race yesterday, for those who might only look on next time and remember the blood spattering finish…
This morning
I ran for the real heroes who will aim for another finish line, a life marathon of courage, perseverance, acceptance and hope. They did not train for it, nor register. Someone blasted them in. We will cheer them on, even if they do not reach the finish line.
