It's April; spring has been loath to arrive in MN. We continue to suffer snowstorm after snowstorm with temps well below average. We complain, mostly about the lack of sun, but we stick to business. Hardy folks, we are, those who live in the Great White North.
Every year, we take notice of the Boston Marathon. Anyone who runs can understand our infatuation with the mother of all races...the ultimate goal of 'running goals'; heartbreak hill, Sweet Caroline, the fans, the finish. This 2013 race would be like no other...this race would begin with joy and end with tragedy. By now, everyone knows of the attack at the finish. Two bombs exploded in the fan section about a quarter mile apart injuring over 100 people and taking the lives of three innocent bystanders. This tragedy was filled with heros, rescues, courage and strength as well as incredible pain and sorrow.
Some events leave us speechless, without words to express our emotion. Our minds and voices are filled with sadness and confusion. We try to make sense of a senseless act but we cannot articulate our pain so we cry, and some of us, we run.
I ran for Boston tonight. Still, I have no words...
