When I hit "post" on yesterday's Marvelous Monday, including a Boston Marathon shout-out, I never could have imagined what would transpire in Boston later in the day.
It was a horrific turn of events that unfolded at one of my favorite places: a marathon finish line. I've never crossed that specific line on Boylston Street in Boston, but I've crossed eight marathon finish lines as a runner and stood at nearly as many as a spectator or volunteer. It is a special, dear space that is truly among my life's highlights so far. Few places have shown me such powerful and lasting lessons about joy, community, triumph, wholehearted effort and gratitude. It's no wonder I end up in tears at the Twin Cities Marathon's finish line at least once each year I volunteer there. Thanks to so many people - spectators, volunteers, emergency responders, race officials and runners - there is so much good.
My heart aches for yesterday's losses, the afternoon that brought tragedy and fear and pain to the finish line of a historic, legendary marathon. There are no answers, yet or maybe ever, and nothing can fix what happened.
All we can do, I guess, is try to remember the good of which we know these places are capable. The light was there yesterday, too: loved ones reuniting, neighbors opening their doors to athletes pulled off the race course, runners continuing on to donate blood after they finished 26.2 miles. The community at a finish line is still (and will forever be) a kind and powerful one, even in a darker time than I ever could have imagined before yesterday.