Small Strokes Big Oaks

It’s a strange thing to be so happy that your husband hasn’t yet lived out his lifelong dream.

Tim has always been a runner. Since his high school days, he’s been on cross country and track teams. He gets up early in the morning to pound the pavement during the summer and, during the school year, he runs right after school before he loses momentum. His 30th birthday gift from me was a treadmill. His Christmas gifts from my mom have always been running-related, from new shoes to GPS fitness watches. His Christmas present from me was the fee for his next marathon.

As a runner, his goal has always been to run a marathon. He ran the Chicago Marathon on our first anniversary, and it was quite an experience for both of us. Watching the spectators get so riled up for the runners – for their friends and family, and for people they didn’t even know – was inspiring. Watching the runners was also inspiring. A few days after the marathon was over, I remember thinking that I could probably run a 5K. I started trying to train, but to no avail. I literally couldn’t run a mile before it hurt my entire body. I’ve walked seven 39.3-mile Avon Walks for Breast Cancer, but running wasn’t for me. Just knowing that anyone could run 26.2 miles – that my husband could run 26.2 miles – was mind boggling. They take themselves to the limits of physicality, and survive.

The running community was also new to me. Everywhere we went, Tim would find someone who was also a runner, and they would become instant BFFs. They talked about shoes and technique and the grueling training runs. They welcomed anyone with open arms, whether you ran a mile every day or were training for a marathon.

I think the best thing about marathons is that it isn’t about winning. You sign up knowing you aren’t going to win the race. It’s about doing something you never thought you could do, and being proud of yourself for doing it. No matter how many marathons you run, it’s always the same. It’s never any less of an accomplishment. And you get to share in that accomplishment with the running community as a whole, and with your friends and family who come to cheer you on.

As a marathon runner (I consider anyone who has run even one marathon a marathon runner), Tim’s other lifelong goal has been to run the Boston Marathon – the holy grail of marathons. He knows he probably will never qualify to run it, but when we were in Boston this summer, we met a woman who told Tim he could run without qualifying if he ran for a charity. Since he would run for a charity anyway (he ran for Ronald McDonald House in Chicago, which had nothing to do with whether or not he was allowed to register), he decided this was the way to do it. He even looked into it, but then life got in the way and we just forgot. We loved Boston so much when we visited, and I idly brought up his running the marathon there a few times because I desperately wanted to go back. For this reason, I’ve also suggested he run marathons in Napa Valley and Paris, too. Being married to a marathon runner might mean lonely Saturday mornings while he is out on his 20-mile training runs, but it can also mean traveling to great places to cheer him on.

I didn’t even realize the Boston Marathon was Monday until one of my students asked me if I had heard what happened. He saw the news on Twitter. As they were working, I quickly looked up some information and, immediately when school let out, I texted Tim and my mom to find out if we knew anyone there. We always know someone who runs the Boston Marathon, but strangely, luckily, this year no one went.

When I got home, I hugged my marathon runner tightly, just as I did when he crossed the finish line in Chicago. I felt so fortunate to be able to do so. I felt so fortunate that he had not signed up for this year’s Boston Marathon. And then I felt guilty for being happy he wasn’t living out his dream.

I watched the news in horror on Monday, and I walked around like I was living in a dream yesterday. I couldn’t even comprehend what had happened, and it didn’t make it any better that our nation has no idea why it happened. I cried many times, unable to think of why anyone would attack spectators at an event that is all about the human spirit and camaraderie.

This tragedy hits close to home in the same way school shootings do because, frankly, it could have been me or Tim or our families. I think it has also struck me so deeply because this was an event that was all about the human spirit and camaraderie. Who could possibly think of attacking spectators anywhere, let alone at a place where they are there to cheer on athletes who are neither celebrities nor wealthy because of their athletic prowess? Who could possibly think of turning an open event that champions endurance and perseverance above all else?

I doubt we will have answers to these questions soon, if ever. My hope is that there was, in fact, a reason behind this and it wasn’t just someone looking for attention. There is no reason that will justify this carnage, but I think some kind of explanation would be better than simple attention-seeking behavior. Maybe not. I don’t really know.

I don’t know much of anything right now, to be honest. The thought of Monday’s events depress me completely. If I’m being completely honest, I should say it scares me a good deal. Tim is running another marathon in November, and he will probably run Boston sometime in the near future; he’s already talking about it as a possibility for next year. I’ll go, and I’ll cheer, but I’ll also be careful, and I would be lying if I said I won’t be worried. But the most important thing we can do right now is continue to run, and continue to cheer, and hug our runners and our cheerleaders a little more tightly, and take our cue from the running community: celebrate perseverance, be astonished by endurance, champion camaraderie, and nourish our spirits in whatever way we can.