Boston

We were over in North Conway at a work meeting this afternoon and stopped off at Whittaker Woods for a run before heading home. It was bright and sunny and warm. Mt. Washington and all the Presidentials were visible at the top of one of the hills in the woods, shimmering in the sun, their peaks all white. We were laughing and stomping through mud and puddles. I beat Ryan on a few of the uphills and he, of course, sailed down the hills much faster than I. It was a nice respite after several hours of meetings.

But when we got back to the car and Ryan picked up his phone, all he could say was "Oh my god, oh my god." We read bits and pieces of the news. That two bombs had exploded near the finish line of the Boston Marathon. A place both of us have been before. The finish line is crowded and boisterous, full of energy and celebration, and most of all, full of people. And today, in this special place, in the midst of a community of runners and family who were there to celebrate accomplishments and enjoy the day, something horrible took place. It is so sad. So senseless. So heartbreaking.

I am happy to be able to report that all of our friends who were down there either running or spectating or volunteering at the race are OK, but my heart breaks for those who were injured or killed in a place that is so special to so many. My heart breaks for those still out on the course, who worked so hard, who were stopped a few miles from their goal because some selfish sick someone did something as horrible as this. I want to cry and scream and gather up Sam in a big bear hug and protect her from that which I have no control over. Why does this happen? Why does someone do something like this? And how can we stop it? I wish I knew the answers. But amidst the chaos and hurt and sadness, my heart also breathes a sigh of relief to hear the stories of people crossing the finish line and going directly to help the injured or to donate blood, for all the friends and family who were looking out for us and our friends this afternoon, who wondered if we were all OK. I wish I could assume Sam, and myself, that there were no "bad people" out there, but there is indeed a lot of good still in this world, and for that I am thankful.