In light of today’s tragic attack in Boston, I’m going to post a recent piece by Mark Remy, Runner’s World Editor-at-Large.
I was angry, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was confused, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was exhausted, so I went for a run. And things got better.
I was lost, unsure, empty, afraid. Certain that whatever was left of my sanity had snapped, had come untethered and floated away, to a place so high and remote that I would never see it again, and that even if I did, I wouldn’t recognize it.
So I went for a run. And things got better.
I felt like things could not possibly get worse, so I went for a run. And things got better.
(Another time, I felt like things could not get much better. I went for a run. Things got much better.)
After enough miles, over enough runs and enough years, I realized: No matter what, no matter when, or where, or why, I can find my shoes and go for a run and things will get better.
And that realization? Just knowing that?
It made things better.
Like I said I would in my earlier post today, I went for a 3.25 mile jog tonight. I ran a path I’ve taken twenty times before, looping around the United States Capitol before turning around to go home. Tonight, there were many, many more armed guards and security vehicles than usual. Watching. Waiting.
All the while, runners like me trotted past, looking up at that big, beautiful Betty. As anyone who’s ever visited the Capitol knows, the white stone emits its own light, even on cloudy days. I hope even my most cynical and politically jaded friends can admit to the Capitol’s mighty presence. It is impressive, it is meaningful, it is powerful, and it is ours.
I slowed a bit when I first came through the tree-lined trail inside Constitution and First, noticing the unusually high number of armed guards patrolling the sidewalks while rows of black Suburbans idled nearby, just in case. I glanced at a guard to my left, unsure if I could proceed.
He nodded and said “keep going.”