Because I Can

I am occasionally asked why I run marathons and Ironman races. My short answer is usually, "Because I can." Some people give me a raised eyebrow "Well, that seems arrogant" kind of look. That's not what is intended by my answer. The long form is, "Because I am able to and I enjoy it," but the short version gets more to the point.

I appreciate being able to lace up my shoes, go out the door, and just run. It feels natural and free. It feels like I'm doing what I'm supposed to be doing. I know that's not for everybody and other people do different activities to reach that state. The next best thing for me is capturing a perfect moment with the lens of a camera, but it's not the same as taking those deep breaths as I glide along the path on the power of my legs. It's primal, it's liberating, and sometimes it's even spiritual on some level. Given my struggles this year with the Achilles injury and now the lead up to the Boston Marathon, I'm more appreciative than I've ever been.

Much has been written and said about Boston this year, most by those who can write about it more eloquently than I, but I'll say this. This one is different. It embodies the very essence of "because I can."

I don't want this to be too heavy because marathons should always be a celebration of life and achievement. They should never be about worrying for personal safety. When I see my wife getting more and more anxious for my safety the closer we get to the race, it makes me sad. She's worried for my safety not because of the inherent risks of athletic activity, but because some person could do something to intentionally harm me. It's just not supposed to be that way. That's why it's so important we run this year and people come out to watch. As much as is possible, we must reclaim this race. We must stand up and keep moving forward, undeterred.

After the bombings last year, I wrote on Facebook what impacted me the most was the people who were targeted were those who support us runners. Those are our friends, our families, and complete strangers cheering for people they've never seen before and will never see again. They do it to support us or because it's fun or because it's what Bostonians do on Patriots Day. For some people last year, that simple act cost them their lives or their limbs or internal wounds we don't see. It's difficult to process. For all of those who will be watching this year's race in person, much of my family included, I admire and respect you for standing tall, literally and figuratively. As I meander through the course, I will gladly slap every hand I can reach that's on an outstretched arm eagerly awaiting that runner interaction.

This year I will not run the Boston Marathon to chase a PR, far from it. I won't run to test what I can do against the world's best in my age group, although I would have dearly loved to be able to do that. This year, I will run the Boston Marathon because there are so many others who wish they could. Some don't have the natural physical ability to qualify. Other's have the ability, but can't get there for any number of reasons, some in their control and others not. Most important, there are many people who would give anything to run or watch or have their loved ones be able to watch and cheer, but they'll never get that chance. This year, I will run because I can. And they can't.