Last year the hubs ran the course in 2 hours and 43 minutes. Praise God.
...He was in the car with his parents, starting to drive away when the bombs went off. I was already back at my parents house in New Hampshire with mini #1 and napping (due to incubation of mini #2). I had no idea what had happened. His sister called me in a panic. Then the hubs called me in a panic and asked me what had happened. Confused, I got out of bed. My mother and I turned on the tv and we saw the aftermath unfold. Then the phones stopped working.
Here is my angry/sassy letter to the marathon bombers:
I am not a hateful person, but I really think you are the devil. If you or any of your wannabes steal my husbands joy again...so help me, I will lose my shit. The most beautiful day..was sullied by your bombing bullshit. Injuring innocent bystanders. Creating a cascade of panic. Phones blocked, roads blocked and people scattering. Joy, stolen.
Hours of pounding pavement. Commitment to training schedules, strategic pacing, practicing preparing pre-race meals. Joy, stolen.
Not only was joy stolen from runners but joy was also stolen from their family and friends who made sacrifices of their own to see their loved ones realize their dreams.
Here is my joyful letter to runners:
Goodluck. However you don't need luck-because you have been running for the last several months. You deserve joy on this day. Do not run in fear. Run strong, be well. Let your love be genuine, hate what is evil and cling to what is good (Romans 12:9). Realize your dreams. Thank God and your support system who helped make it happen. Go get em'. Ooze joy.