I never liked running much.
In fact, until last March, I hadn't run so much as a mile since we were forced to in high school for a fitness test. It always felt like I was punishing my body. But I started running last year to get in shape and to help clear my head after intense days at my first post-college job.
Running gave me clarity and peace. It also gave me a sense of accomplishment. Race after race, the sport stopped feeling like torture and began to feel a reward for hard work.
And that's why the tragedy in Boston hit me so hard. Crossing the finish line is supposed to be purely euphoric. It's the moment when every early morning run, every bead of sweat and sore shin becomes worth it.
The Washington Post's Ezra Klein quotes legendary marathoner Kathrine Switzer, who famously ran in the 1967 Boston Marathon, all-male at the time, even when an official tried to chase her and rip her bib off:
"If you are losing faith in human nature, go out and watch a marathon."
It's no small feat to run a mile, let alone 26.2. It's the pinnacle of human spirit. Yes, plenty of elite runners finish, but more important are the ordinary people: the college students, the moms and grandmas, the working professionals who ditch their suits for spandex. What races are truly about is regular people feeling like all-stars.
That joy was stolen from the runners and their families watching along side -- many of whom were killed or seriously injured. Someone turned a symbol of human achievement into one of terror and loss. It's not fair.
I crossed my own finish line on Sunday, at a half marathon in Central Park. It was a tough course, filled with steep hills and sharp turns. There were many moments during the 13.1 miles where I felt like I might quit. But I didn't, and when I finished the race, I wept. I was in awe of what my body could handle, even when I severely doubted that I could go on.
People, runners and non-runners alike, can take much more than we think we can. We can go on even when our legs are throbbing and our hearts are broken. This horrific day of events will not falter the stamina of America's collective courage. We will only finish stronger.