I cried at the finish line of the Walt Disney Marathon in early 2011 because it was my first and I didn’t want it to be over. I cried because a smiling stranger was slipping a medal around my neck. I cried because the second I stopped running, everything hurt. I cried because I was exhausted. I cried because I was proud, and happy, and overwhelmed.
I cried at the finish line of the ING New York City Marathon later that same year because I was so grateful it was over. I cried because darkness was setting in, and still New Yorkers stayed in Central Park to cheer us on. I cried because I couldn’t find a taxi, and my foot hurt so badly that I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to walk to my cousin’s apartment. And again, I cried because I was proud, and happy, and overwhelmed.
I never cried at a finish line the way people cried yesterday. What happened– and the resulting devastation, hurt, pain, anger, fear, and mourning– is something that should have never, ever happened. Not at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. Not anywhere.
But goodness and healing and hope and love can be found everywhere. You need only to look at the person next to you.
Sending my love and prayers to my city, and to all those affected.