You wake up. Your gear is set out and organized from the night before. Butterflies flutter inside, and you tell yourself, "You've worked hard for this!"
Although it seemed impossible, you've
arrived at the end of your six months of training and achieved your
qualifying time. You lace up your shoes; microchip firmly in place,
check; bib number, check; safety pins for bib number, check;water,
check. Nervously, you check again as your partner impatiently grumbles
something about obsessive compulsive disorder... You take it in your
stride. It's just all part of the routine of another race day morning.
5am morning air is cool and brisk, but still. You feel a slight chill
in your sparse clothing of microfiber shirt and shorts, but warm up
quickly with a gentle jog towards the start. Music plays in the distance
and bright lights break the night. Everyone looks the same, save for a
few intimidating tall very lank people standing nearby... The
butterflies return. But then someone smiles and nods knowingly. You
smile back. The butterflies settle again and you no longer feel alone.
wave is called and you approach the start line with finger on the start
of your *Garmin. You calm yourself and conscientiously resist the
adrenaline rush and being dragged into a prematurely too fast a pace.
All your practice,experience of previous races and how to listen to your
body come into play. You've worked hard for this fine Boston spring
day. Those early morning commitments where you rose before the winter
sun have culminated into achieving your position at the start of the
Boston Marathon. It was not easy running an hour before the day began.
But here you are, 10 minutes before the end.
Although it seemed
impossible six months ago, you've made it -- almost that is-- until the
day that an act of violence so violent that it stole your legs away,
your moment of glory and your passion literally blown away forever.
it seemed impossible, it was a nightmare, come true. Although it seemed
impossible, two young men were convinced by their faith that stealing
dreams was their duty to put their world right. To say how wrong they
were seems too trite...