As you enter the stream of my thoughts - bring a boat and a paddle. For the flow is crazy.
Yesterday - 4/15/13 - I discovered via a news feed that a misguided individual or group, had decided to inflict mayhem and terror to runners and spectators at the Boston Marathon. I don't know why a group would do that, and I don't understand their motive or their goal. Hurting people is not how you get your message across - it is not how you get someone to listen to you - and it is not how you see results that last longer than when you no longer have the bomb or the gun pointed at my head.
My wife has explained to me that runners have an "internal locus of control" vs. an "external locus of control." To bring that down to my cave man understanding - runners believe that they can control themselves and their environment - to act rather than to be acted upon. Runners push through with a belief that they can conquer the next hill in front of them, the next mile that looms so large. Runners don't start a race thinking they won't finish. They believe that they have trained hard and long to get there and they understand their limits and their abilities. Runners don't set out to fail. They plan, plan, plan, and plan some more. They experiment with shoes and goo and hills and roads and snow and cold and rain and shine. Runners purely do.
So. I went to bed late last night with the news in my eyes of the day. I watched the bombs going off and I watched Americans do what Americans do. They run towards the blast and they tear down the barriers and they use whatever is nearby to stop the blood - to carry the wounded, and they go the distance because that is what Americans do. You grab a lanyard from around your neck and you stop the life from pumping from a gash caused by a cowardly blast. I was not there. I don't know what was going on. I don't know who did it. I don't know why.
But. I know that inside - I am the same as those that lost their lives. Color, creed, etc., are of no consequence when danger comes calling. You take away the safety of one or a hundred Americans - we close the ranks around those that have been injured or threatened and we protect them, help them, love them, and care for them. Why? Because that is what Americans do.
So, I had been watching my Facebook feed and there were running clubs around the US that were going on a run to show solidarity with their fellow Americans. I read those. I contemplated them. I have a job. It had an hours window of opportunity for me to go on a run.
Now let me explain to you how I run. I am slow. I am not fast. My marathon times is clocked in increments of 5 hours. But I felt something different today. I left the iPod at home. I strapped on the shoes, put on my St. George Marathon 2011 shirt and I went out for a run. Some would not call it running. Others would call it shuffling. Today I call it: Boston.
I don't know the three people who died in the bomb blast. I don't know their lives or where they were going or where they came from. My simple connection is that they were the same as me. Sons and Daughters of God. Placed here on earth to learn and to grow and to fulfill a measure of the opportunities that The Almighty had put here for them. A coward stole those next moments from them. I cannot do a thing to restore them - but I can remember them. I can remember that when I take a breath - when I run a mile - when I hug my son and my wife that I have time they didn't, and won't. I can remember that they were plucked off this mortal coil and I need to make every day count and every moment matter.
That is the "internal" locus of control No matter how hard the wind blows, and no matter the battering that takes place - I can still make a better world each day that I shuffle forth. God bless those that have left us and God bless us that have the opportunity to continue our run.
Yesterday - 4/15/13 - I discovered via a news feed that a misguided individual or group, had decided to inflict mayhem and terror to runners and spectators at the Boston Marathon. I don't know why a group would do that, and I don't understand their motive or their goal. Hurting people is not how you get your message across - it is not how you get someone to listen to you - and it is not how you see results that last longer than when you no longer have the bomb or the gun pointed at my head.
My wife has explained to me that runners have an "internal locus of control" vs. an "external locus of control." To bring that down to my cave man understanding - runners believe that they can control themselves and their environment - to act rather than to be acted upon. Runners push through with a belief that they can conquer the next hill in front of them, the next mile that looms so large. Runners don't start a race thinking they won't finish. They believe that they have trained hard and long to get there and they understand their limits and their abilities. Runners don't set out to fail. They plan, plan, plan, and plan some more. They experiment with shoes and goo and hills and roads and snow and cold and rain and shine. Runners purely do.
So. I went to bed late last night with the news in my eyes of the day. I watched the bombs going off and I watched Americans do what Americans do. They run towards the blast and they tear down the barriers and they use whatever is nearby to stop the blood - to carry the wounded, and they go the distance because that is what Americans do. You grab a lanyard from around your neck and you stop the life from pumping from a gash caused by a cowardly blast. I was not there. I don't know what was going on. I don't know who did it. I don't know why.
But. I know that inside - I am the same as those that lost their lives. Color, creed, etc., are of no consequence when danger comes calling. You take away the safety of one or a hundred Americans - we close the ranks around those that have been injured or threatened and we protect them, help them, love them, and care for them. Why? Because that is what Americans do.
So, I had been watching my Facebook feed and there were running clubs around the US that were going on a run to show solidarity with their fellow Americans. I read those. I contemplated them. I have a job. It had an hours window of opportunity for me to go on a run.
Now let me explain to you how I run. I am slow. I am not fast. My marathon times is clocked in increments of 5 hours. But I felt something different today. I left the iPod at home. I strapped on the shoes, put on my St. George Marathon 2011 shirt and I went out for a run. Some would not call it running. Others would call it shuffling. Today I call it: Boston.
I don't know the three people who died in the bomb blast. I don't know their lives or where they were going or where they came from. My simple connection is that they were the same as me. Sons and Daughters of God. Placed here on earth to learn and to grow and to fulfill a measure of the opportunities that The Almighty had put here for them. A coward stole those next moments from them. I cannot do a thing to restore them - but I can remember them. I can remember that when I take a breath - when I run a mile - when I hug my son and my wife that I have time they didn't, and won't. I can remember that they were plucked off this mortal coil and I need to make every day count and every moment matter.
That is the "internal" locus of control No matter how hard the wind blows, and no matter the battering that takes place - I can still make a better world each day that I shuffle forth. God bless those that have left us and God bless us that have the opportunity to continue our run.
