I have had the idea of starting a blog about my life, my running and running my life, for quite some time. I had already envisioned my first post to be about some ridiculously insane trail endeavor I just finished conquering. I would go into detail about how amazing all the scenery was and how treacherous the conditions were. It was gonna be the sh!t.
I now sit focused, engaged and eager to write. I feel so full of energy and willingness. Anxiety and frustration. I cannot run. My foot hurts and I cannot run. The Irony.
But there is more to life than running, right? That has been a tough pill to swallow. Last week a couple of bombs were set off near the finish line of one the most prestigious foot races in the world, The Boston Marathon. This attack sent shock waves through the running community and our country. I am angry and want to express myself through my running. The very thing I know to help alleviate this frustration and sadness I am engulfed in, is the one thing I cannot do. I want to run. Alas, it is not to be. Four years ago I discovered my love for running and it changed my life forever. During the last four years I have ran to my heart's content, no injuries to hold me down. Where is my gratitude? What about the people that were injured in this attack, the ones that may never run or walk again? Or the ones that were killed. I have to take a step back and be grateful for the life I've been given and remember that none of us are immune to tragedy.
So my first post is not exactly how I had envisioned it, it is actually quite different than I expected. I want to remember that the gifts we are graced with, at any given moment, can be taken away. I will run again, probably very soon. Others aren't so fortunate. I still plan on writing about that said trail endeavor, wild conditions and all. But for now I will reflect on those that are affected in ways I can't imagine, the result of more senseless violence that has become all to familiar.
