Praying for Boston

As most of you know, I lived in Boston for almost four years, and Marathon Monday was one of my favorite days of the entire year while I was up there. It was a day when everyone in the city came together to celebrate the athletic achievements of those running the Marathon. From the elite, world-class runners to the people running for charity, it was always an inspiring sight to witness.

Today I was saddened to hear about the bombings that took place at the finish line of the Boston Marathon. It's hard to understand why anyone would want to harm this special event, and because of their senseless actions, it would be easy to view the Marathon and my memories of it as somehow "tainted" from now on.

But I choose not to.

Instead I choose to remember cheering on the athletics running past me at the eighth mile of the race in Natick, clapping until my hands went numb.

I choose to remember little girls holding out their hands to runners, hoping to give and receive high fives.

I choose to remember searching for the Texans in the crowd of runners so I could give them a personal cheer of encouragement.

I choose to remember being so inspired by the elite runners that I attempted a little run on the way back to my apartment in Natick.

I choose to remember a father who pushes his son in the race each year.

So I don't really care who they finally discover committed this atrocity. It could be a right-wing wacko, left-wing wacko, domestic terrorist, or international terrorist. You can't take the Marathon and my good memories of it away.

I'm praying for all the people of Boston tonight. The city and its people are strong, and I know they will recover from this — and come out on the other side even better. Godspeed, Massachusetts. Godspeed.