Today has been a rough day.
Even writing that, though, makes me feel guilty. Compared to so many today I've had it easy. I had lunch with a friend. I tried a new restaurant. I got to spend time with my husband, and I'm currently sitting in bed, waiting for laundry to go in the dryer, and writing a blog post. All of my dearest friends and family are safe and are nearby. So many people cannot say that today, and I feel awful about that.
Today has been stressful for me. My lunch with my friend was enjoyable, but it did not happen for a good reason. There are things going on that I can't quite talk about, but they've left me feeling wound up and anxious. Then, shortly after the lunch, Mom called to tell me about the events in Boston.
Two years ago, that news would have made me sad, but I don't think my heart would have ended up in my throat. Two years ago I wouldn't have felt my stomach drop. Two years ago, I wouldn't have become so ill over it. Two years ago, even a year ago, I hadn't run a marathon.
A year ago, I couldn't even fathom the amount of pain, both mental and physical, that goes into running that sort of distance. I had no idea the joy that seeing that finish line brought. I couldn't imagine the sort of inspiration the cheering crowds could bring. Now, however, it's a different story.
After running for 4 hours, your body is past exhaustion. You want nothing more than to lie down. Your feet hurt, your legs hurt, your back and head hurt. You look to the cheering crowds and hope that someone will carry you to the finish, and with their cheers they do.
When you see the finish line, your heart swells with pride. You've accomplished something huge. You have more faith in yourself than you ever had before. You feel invincible. You're a super hero.
That was ripped away from many people today.
And what of those who hadn't finished? What about the people, like myself, who run closer to a 5 hour marathon? Luckily, it probably wasn't their first-ever marathon, but it may have been their first time a Boston, a huge feat in and of itself. How must they feel, knowing they never got to truly finish? How must they feel knowing their was nothing they could do to help? I can't even imagine their pain.
Today was a stressful day for me, but I'll get through it. Some people won't.
After today, no one in Boston will be the same. Some finished a marathon and felt invincible before realizing that they were still only human. Some weren't even able to achieve that goal. Either way, their lives will never be the same.
My heart goes out to Boston.