Running’s an odd thing. It’s at once intensely personal (even the most hardened club runner loves those solitary long runs) and intensely communal (the only sport in which complete beginners can run in the same race as elites – I’ve run in the footsteps of Haile Gebreselassie). Unless you’re at the top of your game, you compete against yourself – you celebrate a Personal Best not how many people you beat.
Running is also a community. I have gained great support from other runners, when learning to run, training, injured, running in races … When tragedy and horror struck the Boston Marathon yesterday, yes, I couldn’t help but be more shaken, overwhelmed and upset than I am by other acts of atrocity, other senseless violence across the globe. Because this was runners; worse, for me, this was runners at the back of the pack, my runners. So, sorry – I hate all acts of violence. I condemn all bombs and other devices. I would be horrified, personally, whatever country this was in.
I sought out other runners in the online community. Walkjogrun, an organisation I’ve known, followed and used to track my runs for years said on their Facebook and Twitter feeds “Today our love, our passion, our therapy was brutally attacked. Tomorrow, every runner should unite and run to show them they didn’t win”. Many people said they’d do it. Some people said there was a movement to run in a race shirt – any race shirt, if you had one. I thought this was a wonderful idea, and I did it. Even though I’m not doing a lot of running these days, even though I’m slow, even though some people would call it jogging, I identify as a runner, and I think I always will.
Today was the hardest run of my life. Harder than my five half-marathons. Harder than that day when I tore my calf muscle and nearly fainted on the pavement. It turns out to be difficult to run when you’re blinded by tears and choked by sobs. Yes, clichés: turns out they’re true.
I wore my hitherto unworn, unlaundered, keeping-it-as-a-mint-souvenir T-shirt from the first Birmingham Half Marathon. It has snot and tears on it now. I ran a beautiful route through my two favourite running parks and round my neighbourhood. I spoke to one other runner. A postman in a van and two cyclists gave me thumbs up. A couple of cars bibbed their horns. Some walkers looked me in the eye and smiled. Two dog walkers stood aside respectfully as I wept in Highbury Park. I didn’t do it for that, obviously. I was pleased to be alone in the beautiful spring parks. I did it to honour the fallen, to honour those who might never run again, to honour the families and friends who support the community of runners. I did it to stand side by side with runners around the world. I feel I did something by doing that, something for myself, something for other runners, something to show those who visit atrocities upon the innocent that the running community will keep running, will keep strong.
There’s been so much opprobrium and criticism when I and others have expressed opinions in public recently, so I’m going to say this at the risk of looking defensive: I don’t want to make this political. It doesn’t much matter to me who did this. Yes, I care about other atrocities around the world, as I mention above. I also wrote this as a private meditation. It’s on my blog because I wanted to put it on record. This one’s not about the reader statistics.
Gillian Rose
Apr 16, 2013 @ 08:07:13
Lovely post, Liz, and well done on being able to get out there.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 16, 2013 @ 08:12:02
Thank you, Gill. I really did write this for myself, but I’m glad it’s struck a chord with a few other people, too.
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Megan McCann
Apr 16, 2013 @ 08:18:46
This is beautiful, Liz x
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Liz at Libro
Apr 16, 2013 @ 08:24:51
Thank you, Meg x
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Jan Carr
Apr 16, 2013 @ 09:28:12
Wonderfully appropriate and moving post. Good for you getting out and running. You’ll certainly remember this day for the violent attrocity in Boston but also for your own special run. I do so admire you. xx
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Liz at Libro
Apr 16, 2013 @ 10:13:15
Thank you, Jan, I appreciate your kind comment.
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Alex
Apr 16, 2013 @ 09:48:48
Liz, we must live very close to each other. I wish I’d known what you were going to do. I would have joined you even though I’m a walker not a runner. Perhaps we might meet each other in Highbury or Kings Heath park one day and celebrate the lives of those who were killed or injured and the courage of all those who turned to and helped without a thought for themselves.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 16, 2013 @ 10:14:22
I suspect we might – I’m just off KH High Street. Maybe in a month’s time or if there is some kind of mark in memorial, at the same time as that?
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In memory of Boston | LibroEditing proofreading, editing, writing
Apr 16, 2013 @ 10:17:52
Kate Millin
Apr 16, 2013 @ 12:51:39
This brought tears to my eyes when I read it – a fitting tribute to those who lost their lives or limbs. So nice that you hot such positive reactions while you were out. A fitting tribute.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 16, 2013 @ 14:03:41
Thank you, Kate. I’m amazed at how many views this post has had – didn’t really mean it to go all over the place!
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Kate Millin
Apr 16, 2013 @ 14:04:36
You never can tell which ones will jot a chord
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travellingcoral
Apr 16, 2013 @ 19:01:40
Reblogged this on travellingcoral and commented:
Liz is both compassionate and intelligent in this blog. No further words required.
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Lindsay McLoughlin
Apr 16, 2013 @ 19:58:25
I am not a runner, but I was with you every step of the way in this blog post. Thank you for sharing your hardest run. It was a charming way to remember those that have been hurt and killed in Boston. It should simply not have happened.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 17, 2013 @ 08:35:49
Thank you for your very sweet comment.
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heavenali
Apr 16, 2013 @ 20:55:38
A lovely post Liz, and well done for getting out there today.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 17, 2013 @ 08:35:35
Thank you, Ali.
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ianbraisby
Apr 17, 2013 @ 07:46:52
A lovely post Liz, and I agree with many of the sentiments. I’ve only just started running, doing my first ‘organised’ run this weekend in fact, but used to do quite a lot in my teens. When a crime or terrorist attack strikes at something you easily relate to it is somehow more real, and your empathy for those involved is all the stronger.
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Liz at Libro
Apr 17, 2013 @ 08:35:23
Thank you for your comment, Ian. I’m so pleased to hear you’ve (re)taken up running yourself – are you doing Parkrun at the weekend?
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