The Human Race

My facebook post this morning: "For some reason, going out for my little run today, takes on a whole new meaning."

I have always wanted to be a runner. Not just any kind of runner, but a marathon runner. I tried in college, but my ankles just don't seem strong enough. No really, I have weak ankles. I am currently in the crawling stages of finding my runners stride. I run every other day, trying to build stamina. But it is not easy.

I have always wanted to be a good mother. More than anything that was my goal. To make sure I raised decent kids into adults, a very important job. I always thought that I was pretty good. Lately I feel like I am falling down. Not enough patience. I yell and apologize. I don't always pay attention. I may not say what I need to say, or more likely, in the way I should say it, to show my kids the respect they deserve.

At my job, I just do not connect. I am more rigid instead of accessible with employees. I am not sure if ultimately, I am doing what I am meant to do be doing. I don't always give 100%. For the first time ever, I look towards retirement as an escape and not the 'old farty way out' it used to feel like.

As a wife. I don't know, I just don't know. I am not the putting forth the effort needed I am sure, as sometimes, regretfully, it's just last on the list.

Socially, in the past, I was always a star. I was great at planning fun events, get-togethers, outings, etc.  I was warm and loving and friendly. Lately, my anxiety towards the world around me has taken over. I have pushed some people away. I can't bother with some of the different personalities that used to be in my life, despite the fact that I feel love for those people. I suffer from a type of anxiety that has never plagued me before. It is frustrating, as it feels like the death of someone that I truly am, as a new, less desirable version emerges.

My hometown, a suburb of Boston, was always a source of great pride for me. If you grew up there, you got it. The feeling of brother and sisterhood, like nothing I have ever felt before. I instinctively knew, through my upbringing, just how proud I should be of being where I was from. It was something that rippled out, like a stone sunk in a pond, from the city itself. Bostonians in general have an air about them. If you don't know one, then you don't get it. We are all at once, tough, in your face, ballsy, hard working people, while still being warm, loyal and vulnerable. Our tough accent sets us apart. It can actually make me laugh, living in a bordering New England state, as how crass it can actually sound at times. However, give me a few beers at the local pub, and my own Boston accent  accelerates right back out again, like a dump truck. When you move away from Boston, and you come back, there are dozens of people always in 'the neighborhood' to welcome you home. I miss that.

On Monday April 15th, things began to change for me. Marathon Monday, my nearby hometown capital of Boston, was under a vicious, senseless attack. Athletes, their family members, spectators, volunteers, police, first responders, college students, store owners all in the presence of an extreme evil and in terrible danger. Runners were running for their lives. Those crazy resilient marathon runners, those that I had determined held qualities that were unattainable for myself, were unable to attain the dream of finishing their marathon. And more devastating, was and is the loss of life and the lives changed forever by unfathomable injury and just in seeing what they saw.

In the five days that followed, we relentlessly pursued. Our local, state wide and federal law enforcement are all our heroes, as they always have been. And the public, we Bostonians, stayed vigilant, whether in our homes or out on the streets. Communication and conversation at a high point. Tears, anguish, hurt, hopes, dreams, love, all of it washed over all of us. I believe all people were affected in this country by what took place in Boston. Just as we have been affected by tragedy before.

Today I wake up to a new kind of world, for the transformation that began in me, and in many of us, today is like a culmination, a celebration, a rebirth, so to speak, of emotions, and desires for the future.

It may not be like some quick fix, but the old, dusty, ragged me, knows that whatever "it" is, it is something that I can no longer live without. I can't be here, pretending that others will just get out of my way. I can't rely on the select few that I feel get who I am as a person, I need to open myself up more, similar to how I was as a child, open hearted, fun loving, spontaneous, proud of who I am and who I may be becoming. No matter how uncomfortable or stressful life can get, I can't just slip into a cool, damp, dark cave.

I don't have to love everybody and include them in my day to day life, but if I truly want to embody what I feel right now, I must love and protect our mankindedness (yup, I think I made that up). The love and respect for each person to, well, just be alive. To pursue their happiness, alongside me while I am pursuing mine.

So...I swill down the last of my cold coffee, grab my iPhone, lace up my running shoes and get ready to run the best and most challenging race of my life.

London Calling

I am staring at it. It’s smoky gray with bold black letters in Times New Roman font. The block on my work computer reminding the staff in my office that I leave early today in order to take my son to the shuttle that will take him to the airport for his trip to London.

With the recent horrific attack at the Boston Marathon, so close to home, the thought of travel right now for me is not comfortable. Who am I kidding? I haven’t been on an airplane in 18 years. So it’s never comfortable.

But there is something in me that is keeping my basket case like tendencies at bay. Last night I got a good night sleep. Something rare for me lately. The night before my 16 year old son leaves to put the first ever stamp in his passport to boot? Go figure. The London Marathon is Sunday. And I got a full 7 hours of sleep last night when I have been averaging 4 or 5 per night.

The temperature of the world we live in might not always be warm. It might be scary and unkind and unforgiving. Despite this, my desire for my children to get the most out of life’s experiences is stronger than ever. I want for them to be worldly. To have high tea, to see the Eiffel tower, to travel to multiple continents if they so choose. Something I have never done and quite frankly have feelings of apprehension about. I refuse to pass on any quirky fears I have to them. I hope they live a year abroad. Learn a different language and celebrate the cultures of others. I would love for them to hop on a plane like it is second nature. Plan an African Safari or stand on a volcano.

When he leaves my sight, a deep breath of excitement laced with a tinge of anxiety will leave my body. I know it will, because it’s the same breath I am holding in right now and I can feel it growing inside my chest.

A part of me will be in London for the next week, because where he goes, I go in a way. My heart follows him around, not matter where his is. Waiting for the moment when we reconnect again.

When I leave him today, I will hug him dearly, with all I’ve got. His big broad shoulders just a little bigger than they were at Christmas. I will inhale and exhale as I always do, taking him in and smelling all of the little nuances of him. And I will keep that smell and that feeling inside of my soul until I get to do it again.

I am proud of him. I am nostalgic. I am emotional and slightly sad because I will miss his presence in our family. But most of all I am excited and so thrilled for him. He is lucky enough to have the first of many of his life changing experiences.

My tendency is to shelter. To tuck him under my wing and make sure no harm comes to him. But I am bucking the system. I will not harbor him and keep him from discovering the world around him.

The ‘world around him’ use to mean such things as flowers and trees, birds and animals, books and poetry, music and faith. Today it actually means the world.

To my boy: The world is your oyster kiddo. Go get it. Soak it in, internalize and learn from it. Be tolerant of others, be kind and treat others as you would want to be treated. Love hard, sing loud, walk with confidence and live with passion. Until you return, a little piece of me will be with you and when you come back, my whole heart will welcome you home.

Dear Coward

Dear Coward:

I would have expected by now to have seen your face and know who you are. For the love of your God, your country, your cause, your hatred, or your delusion. For isn’t that why you did what you did? Your utter detest for us must run deep. I am sure this is your ultimate redemption. You must be in between modes of celebration and righteousness. So where are you?

You and I may have walked the same sidewalk, just 48 hours before you did what you did. As I was celebrating, with my family, the talents of my cousin and her classmates at Boston University on Saturday night, and before that, dinner with some dear friends in the North End. We laughed and joked and loved being in each other's company. Where you there? Did I see you? Did I ask you for change for a dollar in quarters for the parking meter?

For years, my mother took my daughter into Boston, from a suburb 12 miles away on the train, to see the Boston Marathon. They stood exactly where you stood. In the same spot, in the same place as those you ripped apart.

But aren’t you proud? Where is your face, your name and your cause?

What you may not know or care about is that Boston has seen blood on it’s streets before in the name of your cause, or one just like it. And we don’t take it lightly, nor do we bow down to it. We are a city and a nation of people who may forget from time to time to outwardly show our love for each other, but fiercely fight for one another when harmed or threatened. We, here, are smack dab in the birthplace of patriotism. That’s what we were honoring yesterday, something that can’t be taken away by a bomb, or words, or actions or even prayer.

What you did was not fight for your cause, but unite in numbers and in concrete form what already exists. Our pure pride for our land and our fellow man, woman, and child. You have no idea how fiercely we will protect our freedom to walk our streets, play with our kids, love our neighbor.

Did you see? Are you watching? There were so many people running into the havoc you caused to help someone. To comfort them, show compassion, cry with them, and bandage them. There are people now, uniting in social media, on street corners, in neighborhoods and across dining room tables to wipe away your evil. We will mourn for the loss of life and help those that have to live what you did to them. We will rebuild our storefronts. And soon what you did won’t be seen any longer, but will continue to be felt, and it will fuel the strength that we pour into our lives and our loves and our world. We will fight against you.

So why not show us who you are? You are certainly now part of our history. We need to know your name, I guess, to add to the books, magazines and certainly Wikipedia. You are now apart of a long history of those that tried to take us down and failed. There are more of us than there are of you and there always will be.

Those that cheered on the sidelines for the ones that ran the ultimate race, show support that you will never truly feel. Those that ran, they ran for lost love, the fight, their ill children, their love of a strong body, mind and spirit. They are already unbeatable. You may have brought them to their knees, temporarily. But this is why we run and cheer and share our lives with one another. This is why we support one another.

Once again, there are more of us than there are of you and there always will be.

So by next week I suspect we will all know who you are as we drag into the spotlight and dissect all of your thoughts, your parents, your religion, your history or your every step. But the week after, you will prove to make us begin to be stronger than ever before.

So why not let us see who you really are?