In the Shoes of a Boston Runner

(Interpretation of that terrifying day in Boston)

I have been training for months, testing my physical strength - pushing myself to go beyond yesterday's benchmark - my daily grind becoming more difficult by the moment.  One more mile.  Sucking in air, feeling as if my lungs are going to explode.  Counting steps in my head to think about anything else aside from my side-splitting pain.  Pushing myself beyond physical limits - mind over matter.

I am here.  I am ready to use my fearless training.  On your mark.  Ready.  Set.  Go. 

I'm quickly running, fueled by adrenaline and competitve spirit.  I listen to the pace of my tennis shoes stepping in time against the ground, smelling the salty, east coast air.  I am moved to be running in the race of a lifetime, and for some, it was the last race of their life.

Peaceful thoughts.  I am counting my steps, feeling out my paced rhythm, glancing at my watch for the time.  My ticking clock turns to sounds of explosions.  My inner peace is transformed into fear.  What are those bursts of noise?  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  I am no longer running towards the finish line, but running in fear, propelled by trying to stay alive.  It is pure instinct.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

I cannot believe the sights I see.  Was that a limb?  "Stop!  You are trampling someone!"  No one can hear my screams of warning.  Racers can't see what they are doing.  Pure panic and will to survive has completely taken over the scene.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

I can't see beyond the red - it has not registered that this is blood.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.  My training did not prepare me for this.  I did not mentally prepare for acts of terrorism.  What do I do?  The onlookers are left in tears and terror.  Breathe in.  Breathe out.

Keep running.  There is no finish line.  Only survival.

Counting steps to keep me sane.  Push the images out of my head.  I cannot be afraid, but I cannot stop hearing my voice.  There is panicked screaming.  Is that me?   Breathe in.  Breathe out.  My face is wet, but I'm certain that is not sweat, but instead tears.  Tears of loss, fear, and adrenaline that is long gone.  My humanity is kicking into overdrive.  My survival instinct is overtaken by the reality registering of what is taking place around me.

There is a moment of loss.  And then ... I overcome.  I stop to help others around me who have fallen and are hurt.  After all, I have trained this hard.  My body is physically fit.  I need to do this.

We are competitors.  We do not stop, and our minds are trained to overide where our bodies fail us.  Our will is strong.  I am strong.  There is no room for fear here. 

I say a prayer.  Help where I can.  Then get to safety.  The rest is yet to come.  We will prevail.  And I will be ready.  I will never be stopped!  Your terror will not prevent the good, which ALWAYS overcomes the bad.

Breathe in.  Breathe out.  Left foot.  Right foot.  I am running onward, towards a stronger nation, and a stronger me.

Boston feel our prayers.