This morning I watched the Boston Marathon winners cross the finish line from my laptop at work. In awe, I watched the elite runners finish the crossing line one by one in incredible time. I thought to myself ha, I would be so far behind these people it’s not even funny.
Then, a few hours later I sat in a meeting at work, when my phone started going off with text messages from friends and family asking if I’d seen the explosions. My heart continued to get heavier and heavier as the latest reports trickled in.
As I drove home, with coverage filling the radio, I had to hold back tears and swallow the lump in my throat. If you know me at all, you know this is abnormal for me. I don’t really know why today’s events make me so sad, but they really do.
For years and years now, running has been my escape, both emotionally and physically. When my dad died two years ago, I ran through my thoughts, emotions and sadness. Two days ago, when I thought the stress of buying a home was going to make me go crazy, I laced up my shoes and went for four on the trail.
Running is supposed to be the release, not the reason. In a world with so many trials and hardships, it’s been my consistent escape for almost twelve years now. To think that it’s been tainted for so many people breaks my heart.
I can’t describe how broken hearted I am for these runners that have trained for so long to get where they were today. Boston is such a goal for so many. And for all of their precious families that took the day off to come support their loved ones, I can’t even imagine the horror they must have seen.
I have to constantly remind myself in situations like this that we serve a God who is in control. In a world that constantly disappoints, at least we have hope that doesn’t.