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Monday afternoon I was jazzed because I knew it was the day that the Boston Marathon was ran.  I left work early and went to a spot to watch a little bit of it.  I know, I was being a running nerd.

I love Boston.  It is one of my favorite cities.  The people, the history, the beauty.  If I was ever to run a marathon it would be there.

Monday evening before going to bed I wanted to see who won the women’s race.  I was logging on  to my trusty laptop to quickly check.  I was not expected to be heartbroken.

Why?  After each school shooting I ask the same question.  Why?

This is a truly amazing event.  The ability and the training that it takes to run 26.1 miles is awe inspiring.  The runners are not the only ones that are amazing.  The people that support the them as they train and boost their spirits during those long months before a race are winners also.  I have always felt that it is not just the runner that crosses the finish line.  It is a group effort.  One could not be done without the other.

My heart is aching.  In a sport that I have grown to love with every muscle and every tendon of my being sadness should not reign.  But it has since Monday evening.

This will not change my desire to run.  It will not change me.  To honor what is truly important, I will lace up my running shoes and hit the trail.  I have always felt it has been a blessing to have the ability and the desire to run.  Now, I want to embrace the glory and the reverence that it entails step by step.

My heart is broken but my spirit will heal. With every tragedy there is the embodiment of good.  That was seen on Monday.  Those are the moments that will heal us.

Holding on a little longer to that special someone, running a little further next time out, but remembering will be therapeutic.

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