After the bombings yesterday in Boston, I read an article with an interesting headline: "If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon." Well said, Ezra Klein (article found here). That simple sentence says multitudes about the sport of running and the people that toe the starting line time after time.
If you have ever been a part of a big race, you will understand the quote above. In the midst of a marathon, you see all types of people - young, old, big, little - all moving toward the same goal. The air at the beginning of a marathon is electric. Excitement and nerves run through the bodies of the runners. Runners have worked for months, some even years, to get to the starting line of the marathon, whether their first or fiftieth. Along the route, you see people helping each other, cheering each other on, as they move their legs toward the finish. Every racer knows and understands the pain on every runner's face, knows exactly how their legs are feeling at mile 21. It is a shared camaraderie. Strangers unite in their common effort to do what they have dreamed of doing, to push their bodies just a little bit further than they thought possible.
Aside from the runners, the spectators and hundreds of volunteers are another example of the good that is still left in the world. No race can be accomplished without them. These people get up before the sun to support and help organize the giant feat that their friends and loved ones have set out to accomplish. They cheer, they hand out food and water, they pick up trash, they give words of encouragement when they are needed the most. They are working because they understand the desires of their loved ones. They want to give back to the sport that consumes the lives of so many. Do they get anything for doing this? No - it is done from the goodness in their hearts. If you are ever at a big race, look around and see just how many people have those good hearts. It is overwhelming.
Runners are a different breed. They are goal-setters, thrill-seekers, comfortable with being alone. They constantly push their bodies to the limits to see just how strong they are. They get up early, stay up late, rearrange their schedules, miss weekend mornings with their families just to run. Running is a lifestyle, a life-changer. When runners line up on a starting line, they are surrounded by many like-minded people who share their passion. They don't have to explain it; they understand it. As they log miles, they know that everyone around them is logging the miles for the same purpose - to fulfill the desire in their hearts and the need in their muscles.
It is sad that such a senseless tragedy as the one that occurred yesterday can change the face of the racing world within minutes. Runners that make it to Boston are people that have spent their lifetimes working toward reaching this ultimate running dream. They have trained hard to get to the race. Boston is not like your local 5K. It is similar to the Superbowl or the World Series in the running field. Unfortunately, many runners' dreams were cut short yesterday, and even more unfortunately, people will start to view running events differently. The bomber(s) took something away from running yesterday.
Fortunately, runners ARE a different breed. Runners will continue to run no matter what adversity comes their way. Runners tend to band together. The running community is strong, and it will stay strong. Whether you run a 10-minute mile or a 5-minute mile, when you lace up your shoes to go for a run, you are a runner. Runners understand each other because they all carry the same passion in their hearts for a sport that gives back what they are willing to put in.
Running clears heads, strengthens bodies, opens minds, and forms friendships. Racing events are not something to be feared, despite the devastating events that took place in Boston. If anything, racing events should be embraced, because it is in them that you will find the strength of the human spirit. They are the one place you will see strangers coming together, providing words of encouragement, supporting each other when their will is crumbling. They are the one place you will see hundreds of people giving up their time to make sure runners are safe, supported, and well fueled. The running community is unique. It is strong, it is large, and everyone is welcome. Nothing will change that.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Thursday, April 4, 2013
Making Time
I have decided it is time to start practicing what I preach. I tell my students all the time that the only way to get better at something is to practice, practice, practice. When they complain about not liking to read, I often stress to them that once they start reading on a regular basis, it will become a habit in their lives; they will feel empty when they don't. They look at me with disbelieving eyes, but eventually they come back to tell me that I was right. I love those moments!
As a child and a teenager, I wrote all the time. In elementary school, I wrote stories - pages and pages of notebook paper filled with the imaginings of my mind. My teachers always encouraged me to keep writing, and some even had my stories spiral-bound into "books" that I could keep forever. In middle and high school, I moved to poetry and journal writing. My high school creative writing and English teacher became my inspiration. She wrote poetry and frequently shared it with us. She also kept the most creative journals - she decorated the outside covers, glued pictures, quotes, and inspirational words throughout the pages. She was my role model. She was everything I wanted to be - creative, inspiring, a teacher, an author, and a mentor. I thrived in her classroom, keeping journals, writing poetry, and finding my inner voice.
After high school, I lost touch with the teacher that had inspired me to find my writing voice. It was up to me to do it on my own. I sporadically kept journals throughout college and into my post-college life, but writing became less of a habit for me. My entire life, I had used writing as a way to vent my frustrations and explore my emotions. But as my life got busier with work, a family, and other obligations, that outlet slowly started slipping away.
Now, I find myself longing for my writing life. In stores, I am always drawn to the journals. I buy a new journal at least once or twice a year, thinking the beautiful cover will inspire me to continue my old habit. My desire is so strong, but I never seem to make the time for writing.
I read book after book, devouring and falling in love with words. In fact, my ultimate goal is to one day write a book of my own, hoping to inspire someone the way that so many books have inspired me. But, like I tell my students, I won't get there if I don't make time to practice. Even if I just sit down for ten minutes a day in between teaching, parenting, reading, running, coaching, and housekeeping (whew!), I will be closer to my goal than I am now.
I had a conversation with a writer last night that has motivated me. She used to be a teacher, but quit her job to become a full-time writer. After talking to her, I realized that that is the life I want. She is living my dream. But I am the only one holding myself back.
So this is my vow. I am putting it in writing so I can stick to it. Ten mintues a day. Journal or blog. Just as long as my thoughts start flowing and my words start accumulating. I'm on my way.
As a child and a teenager, I wrote all the time. In elementary school, I wrote stories - pages and pages of notebook paper filled with the imaginings of my mind. My teachers always encouraged me to keep writing, and some even had my stories spiral-bound into "books" that I could keep forever. In middle and high school, I moved to poetry and journal writing. My high school creative writing and English teacher became my inspiration. She wrote poetry and frequently shared it with us. She also kept the most creative journals - she decorated the outside covers, glued pictures, quotes, and inspirational words throughout the pages. She was my role model. She was everything I wanted to be - creative, inspiring, a teacher, an author, and a mentor. I thrived in her classroom, keeping journals, writing poetry, and finding my inner voice.
After high school, I lost touch with the teacher that had inspired me to find my writing voice. It was up to me to do it on my own. I sporadically kept journals throughout college and into my post-college life, but writing became less of a habit for me. My entire life, I had used writing as a way to vent my frustrations and explore my emotions. But as my life got busier with work, a family, and other obligations, that outlet slowly started slipping away.
Now, I find myself longing for my writing life. In stores, I am always drawn to the journals. I buy a new journal at least once or twice a year, thinking the beautiful cover will inspire me to continue my old habit. My desire is so strong, but I never seem to make the time for writing.
I read book after book, devouring and falling in love with words. In fact, my ultimate goal is to one day write a book of my own, hoping to inspire someone the way that so many books have inspired me. But, like I tell my students, I won't get there if I don't make time to practice. Even if I just sit down for ten minutes a day in between teaching, parenting, reading, running, coaching, and housekeeping (whew!), I will be closer to my goal than I am now.
I had a conversation with a writer last night that has motivated me. She used to be a teacher, but quit her job to become a full-time writer. After talking to her, I realized that that is the life I want. She is living my dream. But I am the only one holding myself back.
So this is my vow. I am putting it in writing so I can stick to it. Ten mintues a day. Journal or blog. Just as long as my thoughts start flowing and my words start accumulating. I'm on my way.
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