I’ve never run the Boston Marathon and I probably never will. But the tragedy that took place yesterday still feels so personal to me. The people I know who were running the race are OK, thank goodness.
I know nothing is really safe anymore, including running. Just a week and a half ago a runner here was killed by a drunk driver on a Sunday afternoon. You definitely don’t expect your big race to be the scene of the next terrorist attack. When I’m running at full capacity, I run about 8 races per year. That could happen to me.
Closer to home, the Crazylegs Classic is next weekend. I’ve run or walked this race almost every year since we moved to Madison. I’m not running this year since I’m only running 2 miles at a time right now. We thought about the walk but decided against it.
It isn’t as high profile or prestigious as Boston, but its a big event with 20,000 runners. This morning the local news was running the headlines saying, among other things, that police were meeting with race officials. I don’t know how I’d feel if I was running next weekend. Part of me would want to run as a tribute, to show that the terrorists won’t win. But part of me would be so scared.
How do you secure a race course? There are so many places something like yesterday’s bombs could be hidden. The child who died was a spectator, waiting to hug his dad at the finish. That hits especially close to home as I have two kids of my own now, both of whom I want to share my love of running and my races with.
We were hugging the kids extra tight Monday night.
While we don’t shield Allie from the news, we did change the channel before she could see much of this news coverage. But she saw enough to say to Doug when the video was on the news this morning, “I don’t like this Dada.”
Niether do we kid, niether do we. How do we not only keep ourselves, but our kids safe?
I guess what I’m trying to say here is for the first time, maybe ever, tragic events are hitting closer to home than they have before. Two things that are really important to me are now vulnerable. I know they always were, but you don’t think of that until something happens.