No Words

Facing the aftermath of another senseless tragedy in Boston yesterday, I am a bit speechless. I can't understand and stomach that these events are becoming more common. As a marathoner this one seemed to hit home a little more and I can't really understand it.  My incredibly talented wife wrote this yesterday for Facebook and I am reposting it here as well. Her words were profound and beautiful and a true reminder that while I am lost in my emotions of grief and rage and confusion, over Boston, over Sand Hook, over the Aurora theater shootings, that I must concentrate on the light.

From my wife:

Tiffany Carter Coleman

I watch Troy work so hard to run marathons. He has run five so far, and this year is working extra hard to shave minutes off of his time. In the snow, in the rain, in the freezing cold, in the blistering heat, in the wee hours of the morning and after a full workday, he laces up, heads out, and runs. As someone who runs for pleasure, I don't understand why anyone would want to run 26.2 miles, endure ice baths, ferocious blisters, bleeding nipples and hours of isolation with nothing but you and your will propelling you forward. But each time I watch them run, those marathoners, it is a moving experience. You can see the struggle, see them promising themselves that for just the next step, for just the next breath, they will not quit. I've seen a man with an injury cross the finish line, a daughter under each arm, holding him up. Seen people in full costume running for charity. Saw a blind man running with a guide. A blind man. I've seen people stop and heard the crowd cheer them on, tell them they could do it, to keep going. Saw my husband running and at each mile, he had the biggest, broadest smile lighting up his face. It's inspiring. Your heart leaps when the one you're cheering for crosses the finish line. You feel lazy and flubby as they limp to get their medals, sweaty, wearing that shiny astronaut blanket, choking down water and gooey gel packs. And you get it, you get why they do it--until they start training again and you don't get it, why anyone would want to do this. But they do and it matters to them. Weeks of training, hours of running, wills of steel, so they can do it. What an accomplishment. And what a shit thing to do, to bomb a marathon (or open fire in a movie theatre, or shoot little kids). What a wretch of society, who was probably just pissed off that things haven't gone his/her/their way. I hate the bleakness and I hate the darkness, but I am not giving up on the light. And Troy's going to run another marathon next month, and I admit that right now, I'm a little scared. But he's going to go and I'm going to cheer him on, because that is what you do when you don't give up on the light, because in the end, the light wins. In the end, the light wins.