|
I was so proud of myself! I had navigated the technology of online streaming, and thrilled to the tight finish of men's and women's competition. I had found my friend on the web, and tracked his progress until he crossed the finish line. I had gone on to other things, but left Boston Marathon coverage on the screen, running in the background, connecting me with USA road running's annual signature event.
I have dreamed of Boston ever since beginning to run 15 years ago. It is the one major distance race that requires participants to qualify in advance. Qualifying is challenging, but not impossible. It has been awhile since I seriously considered that effort, but like the live online coverage, it runs in the background of my awareness. Each time a friend qualifies, I feel a vicarious surge of pride and joy.
Then, on Monday, something changed. I glanced at the screen between chores and saw an odd cloud of smoke billowing out from the left side of the picture. With the second and third look, I began to register what had happened. I spent the rest of the day, numb with disbelief, watching the coverage. My Facebook friends focused on little else. Each post had a slightly different take: horror, anger, defiance, prayer, compassion, sorrow, fear, relief that my loved ones are OK.
I debated whether to reflect here on the Boston bombing this week. What can I say that hasn't already been said? Which of the many perspectives do I want to internalize and to share? Whatever the answers to those questions, I cannot leave the topic behind and unattended to. As a runner, I cannot run away from this pivotal experience in the history of our sport. I must acknowledge the fact that Boston the dream is now tinged with Boston the nightmare.
It feels extraordinary, but isn't that combination, in life, always the case? In my dream-our collective dream-some times and places are sacred and safe from harm. In my nightmare-our collective nightmare-nothing is sacred and safety is relative. Horrible things happen: acts of nature, acts of humans. They shake our world and remind us of our vulnerability. Is there, then, no refuge?
I find refuge in the community of response to suffering when it occurs. I take strength from watching emergency teams in action. I am inspired by the acts of compassion and support that proliferate. I am uplifted by the courage and depth with which victims overcome their anguish and move on to live again.
The dream of pain-free life is an illusion; all lives are tinged with nightmares. The nightmare need not, however, have the final say. We can help and we can ask for help. Our spirits are resilient and our communities are supportive. Morning comes
eventually and we awaken to a better day.
What insights and perspectives help you deal with the Boston bombing and other tragedies in your own life and the lives of others?
| 
