I’m just one of many writing of the Boston Marathon today.

This beautiful event that we runners so cherish and honor and look forward to watching (or running, if we’re lucky.)

Even though I was at work, with a side screen of the live feed running on my screen, I was still in on the excitement. Watching the women’s elite race is, of course, my favorite.

Meetings and actual work tore me away from the screen and I had to abandon my own personal watch party for a few hours.

The next thing I knew, someone told me t here was an explosion at the finish line.

The live coverage was brutal to watch but I was glued to my screen and I heard people yelling that someone was dead and I swore I saw a man being wheeled away without the bottom half of his leg.

I watched the replay of the first explosion, as a runner made his way toward the finish line but keeled over in the wake of the blast.

I imagined those precious moments at the end of your marathon when you are almost there — you are have almost accomplished this amazingly awesome goal of crossing the finish line of your marathon!

The timing did seem odd. If some evil person wanted to make a real scene, you’d think they’d have done it at a more “high profile” time — like when the elites were finishing or something like that.

But, none of us are safe. Those finishing when the explosions happened were running anywhere from 3:30-4:30 marathons from what I could tell.

Guess where I would have been? Somewhere right in there. Not that I qualified for Boston but it’s an eery feeling…thinking had I been running, would R or my mom have been waiting at the finish line — in the pathway of the explosion? Would they be okay?

Who lost their lives today? Who lost their limbs? Who will be scarred forever at being in the midst of such tragedy?

The Boston Marathon — any marathon or race really — is a happy occasion. It’s about fulfilling goals, living your dreams, accomplishing something you never thought you would and being inspired from the inside out. You are supposed to be in your bubble of courage and strength and breathing in and out goodwill towards man. It’s all that is good.

An explosion doesn’t exist there. But then it does. And we grieve and cry and get angry and sputter confusion at how this could be. But, as a friend on FB posted on his status update:

We will keep training
We will keep running
We will continue to live. 

I hope that’s an anthem we see live on. Additionally, another friend pointed out: “Keep in mind that the best of humanity was also in display today. Thank you to the first responders, spectators and runners who came to the aid of the injured and dying.”

It’s too early to write this post. It just  happened. But that’s what I do sometimes when I don’t know what else to do — I write.

Today is ugly but through that ugliness comes the most beautiful parts of people. Love comes pouring out in our words and actions, thoughts and prayers.

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