As a runner, the third Monday in April is a quasi-national holiday for me. Boston is the biggest running event to happen every year. It's more than just the Super Bowl of running. It's the quintessential American road race. Runners can work their entire lives to qualify for Boston once; others can easily qualify every year, but all hold the race in the same reverence and mystique. The funny thing, though, is that it's rare for an American to even place, let alone win. An American male hasn't won for thirty years and no woman has won since 1985. The top American runner, Meb Keflezighi, had a shot of winning before withdrawing last week due to injury, while the top American female runner, Shalane Flanagan, finished a disappointing fourth.
The dearth of American winners, though, has made Boston even more important for American runners. Ironically, the most important race in America even fails to draw top international talent, because the London Marathon is always the following Sunday and has a much larger prize pool. However, this is the one opportunity every year for the running community to come together to support our very best runners in America's best race. The Boston Marathon, then, isn't just another road race. It's the highest accomplishment for the vast majority of American runners, and it brings runners together in a collective sense of belonging and support that no other race can match.
Even if a runner qualified but skipped, just missed qualifying, or isn't even close to finishing even a 5K, everyone knows someone who knows someone who was running Boston this year. This personal connection that every runner shares with the Boston Marathon makes the events that happened today even more tragic and personal than murders that happen every day in Detroit, Los Angeles, Chicago, New York, or any other American city. Any runner, given enough training and time, could potentially have been running in Boston today. Given that running is the most popular fitness activity in the United States, this personal connection to the event has hit the country particularly hard, even beyond the impact of a "normal" terrorist attack. The Boston Marathon draws the most elite of American runners, but also the casual jogger who took it upon him or herself to push themselves to the very limit of human endurance and commitment, all in the name of sport.
We all like to think that a terrorist attack could never happen to us, but the bombing today in Boston makes us all realize that we are no longer safe even doing the most basic of human instincts. For many of us, running is a refuge from life. It's an opportunity to escape the trials and tribulations of work, family, relationships, and everyday stress. I have never left for a run and come back feeling worse than when I left. Today was the first time that I went for a run and returned with more stress than when I left. As an American, I hope that we can find a way to deal with terrorism, both domestic and international, so that nobody needs to feel the pain of a terrorist attack on our own soil. As a runner, I hope that this singular, terrible event doesn't ruin the enjoyment and pleasure that millions of Americans take from the most simple of sports - running.