Trying to Process What Happened in Boston

That's All Joy Wrote

As we all know, I ran a half marathon on Saturday.

A half marathon that I was having a lot of mixed feelings about, truth be told. I sat down a couple of times Sunday to write my recap of the race. But, I was having trouble finding the right words to describe it. “I’ll write it Monday, once my hips stop hurting,” I told myself. (Because, heaven knows, you can’t write when your hips hurt.)

And then …

Monday happened.

And, as a runner, a marathoner, I felt like someone attacked my family. Runners have come to be a huge part of my community, of who I’ve become. Some of my dearest friends and supporters are runners. As a group, they’ve changed my life. And those spectators? Cheering at the finish line? They’re the ones who pull us through. They’re the ones there at every single…

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Who Are Marathon Spectators?


I am a marathon spectator.

I, myself, don’t run. Trust me, I’ve tried. Treadmill, road, track. I want to be one of those amazing athletes who push themselves to keep going, just one more mile . . . and then just one more after that. I want to feel the heaviness of a finisher’s medal around my neck and the crinkle of a shiny wrap around my shoulders. I long to round a corner, dead tired and foot sore, to see a sign with my name on it urging me to go the distance.

I’m just not a runner. I don’t have the drive, the patience, the endurance.

But I am a marathon spectator.

There are few other events that I enjoy more. The pumped up, friendly atmosphere, the inspiring stories, the peppy music, the colorful race outfits, the challenge of navigating by car to the place you want to…

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