Ever since I started this honeymoon blog last September, I’ve consistently published at least two blog posts every week: one real honeymoon post and then whatever else I felt like writing about. Some friends have asked how I find the time to do it, but I always say that it’s easy because it’s a lot of fun for me. But as much as I love honeymoons and writing about travel in general, I must admit that I’m just not feeling it this week.
After hearing about the horrible explosions at the Boston Marathon finish line a few days ago, I’ve been in a bit of a funk. Even though I’m not a marathon runner myself (5Ks are just fine for me, thank you), my husband runs about two full marathons and a couple of halves a year, and I always look forward to cheering him on.* Despite having seen him, my uncle, one of my sisters, and many of my friends run plenty of marathons over the years, I still get emotional every time I watch them and the other runners achieve such an awe-inspiring accomplishment. Who am I kidding? I get emotional just thinking about marathons. I love watching the people who run in creative costumes (and still make it look so easy), the kids who cheer like crazy when they spot their parents, and the amazing guides who lead the even more amazing blind marathoners throughout the entire race (and the countless hours of training as well). At one race I even saw a runner stop just yards before the finish line, get down on one knee, and propose to his girlfriend who was completely taken by surprise.** Even as a spectator, I’m so grateful for all of the wonderful memories that marathons have given me.
All marathons are impressive, but the Boston Marathon is an exceptional race. As if being able to run 26.2 miles isn’t impressive enough, the Boston Marathon runners have all qualified by either running incredibly fast times during previous races or by running on behalf of some sort of charity. The route itself is no piece of cake either (they don’t call one portion of it “Heartbreak Hill” for nothing). It’s an honor to even be allowed to participate in the Boston Marathon. Everyone there on Monday, runners and spectators alike, had so much to be proud of, which makes this attack even more unbearable for me to even think about.
On Monday morning my husband and I were saying how strange it was that none of our friends were running the Boston Marathon this year, and just an hour or so later we heard about the explosions. Luckily no one we knew was injured, but we just felt sick to our stomachs all day. My husband ran the Boston Marathon a few years ago, and his family was right there at that finish line to cheer him on.*** He has recently been training to qualify for Boston again next year. This was his people, this could have been us. How were we supposed to process this?
Over the past day or so the funk has begun to subside, but I just didn’t feel up to writing about fun stuff like honeymoons this week. However, my hope is that now that I’ve put this “funk” into words, I’ll start to feel a bit better. And you know what else helps? Playing with puppies at my office and solid radio singalong sessions with my husband.
Click here for ways to help the victims of this terrible tragedy, and stay tuned for another real honeymoon blog post on Monday morning.
* I haven’t always been an enthusiastic marathon spectator. When my husband and I started dating, he invited me to watch him run the Big Sur Marathon and informed me that he was planning on sleeping in my friend’s car before the race. As tempting as that was, I politely declined that offer.
** She said yes.
*** I watched the race from a rooftop with friends near mile 13, but went down to the street when it was time for him to run past us. He spotted me jumping up and down, ran over to give me a kiss, and kept going.