Prosthetics and a Purpose

A view from the driveway...a beautiful day!

Good morning everybody!

I just got done with my Memorial Day run, a 3-miler in quiet, sunny, 60-degree weather.  (Mind you, I still didn’t enjoy the running, but the atmosphere sure was beautiful.)

I wanted to share a bit more about why I’m aiming for Boston.

My heart broke for the victims of the Boston Marathon bombings, both those that survived their injuries, and those that weren’t as lucky.  They were just normal people celebrating a great event, and in a second, life changed drastically for them.  As I’ve seen different events on TV – tornadoes, shootings, bombings, tsunamis – it has become more and more real to me that I may not know when my time is coming.

Truth is, these recent events have come at an interesting time in my life.  My wife is due with our first child in June.  I am 32, and it is becoming clearer each day that my life is going by so much faster than I anticipated it would as a 16-year-old.  And I’m grappling with the possibility that I may not be making quite the difference in the world that I hoped I would when I was 16.  Heck, sometimes I can’t even get my Sunday School class of 11- and 12-year-olds to listen to me.

I can’t get around the fact that I’ve lived a charmed life.  I have never experienced the death of an immediate family member.  Both sets of my grandparents are still living.  My family has enough to pay the mortgage and bills.  I was able to go to college.  I’ve traveled to many countries and met many amazing people.  My life has already been a full one.

As the bombings unfolded, I realized that those people didn’t ask for what they got.  I also had the thought that we’ll likely see a couple of the Boston amputees at the starting line next year, running the Boston Marathon with their prosthetics, doing their best with the cards they’ve been dealt.

As for the others, the ones that perhaps won’t have enough rehab time to be ready for Boston – I guess I’m trying to be their legs.

I don’t know if that makes any sense.

What I do know, is that I really do have quite a strong dislike for running.  With each wheezy mile that I run, I’ve been thinking about those around me that are suffering.  Thinking that maybe someone will feel just a bit comforted, knowing that somebody else is doing something hard too, with no certainty of victory—just the hope to make it through the next workout in one piece.  That’s what keeps me pushing on the hard training runs, because I certainly wouldn’t do them just for fun.

Several weeks ago, it struck me with renewed force.  When I was born, I was guaranteed a second of life.  Everything since then has been a gift.  I’ve felt a renewed sense of urgency to make the most of the time.

So there you go.  That’s my motivation.  Don’t know if the jumbled thoughts make sense to you, but they do to me.

Now, have a great Memorial Day!