It's 12:40am on 4/16. It's officially my release date. But it's also about nine hours after the explosions at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. So my mind is a jumble, to say the least.
I ran track in high school and cross country in college. I know the surge of energy that comes in a homestretch very well. It's what I raced for. Those last couple hundred meters made me capable of pushing my body beyond itself. The people that would come cheer us on, watching competitors run by all afternoon, made such a difference. There were times I wanted to quit, but when I came up on a pack of supporters cheering for me even if, especially if they had no idea who I was... I had to keep going.
I just saw the video of the first explosion. It's sickening. Whoever did this set the devices where the crowd would likely be larger - where families would wait to take pictures of their loved ones crossing the finish line. Whoever did this attacked love and support in one of its purest forms.
But it didn't work. Once people realized what was happening, they ran towards the smoke and debris to help. Talk about pushing beyond themselves. Talk about love and support. About not quiting. This is what I want to focus on, what I have to focus on. The good. The kind. The brave. They have my attention. Not whoever did this.