I Will Explain Boston To My Kids In Running Terms

Bear with me. As they always are after senseless acts of violence, my mind and heart are full of emotions. There is great sorrow for the innocent lives that were lost. There is anger at the person or persons responsible. And there is hope. Hope that is born from the actions of so many kind strangers in the immediate aftermath of the tragic events. These senseless acts always inspire such a confusion of emotions, so this may not turn out exactly like I want.

What I know above all of it, though, is that I first thought of my seven-year-old son when I saw the news from Boston.

You see, we are both runners. I took up the activity three years ago, and while I have since set no world records, I’ve managed to shed a few pounds and put myself back on the road to good health after sitting on the sidelines for too many years.

I’ve also managed to pass along my love of running to my three kids. They each have watched me take off on morning runs these last few years, have seen me return so often exhausted but happy, and have heard countless details of the various routes I have run. They now ask to run with me, and while my wife deserves most of the credit for all the good in my kids and the good things they do, their wanting to run comes from me. If that’s all I pass along, I will take it.

Our ten year-old-daughter, the oldest, is our sprinter. While she normally can beat me off the starting line, I can catch her around the thirty-yard mark. Distance running is not yet, and may not ever be, her thing. Our four-year-old, the youngest, does not yet know how to tie his shoes, and his personal records are generally measured by how far he can run without falling down.

My seven-year-old, however, is leading the pack. He ran his first 5K in September, finishing with a time of 33:11. On Friday, April 12, he ran his second. As the racers gathered near the start, he told me he wanted to be up front instead of near the back with me, our four-year-old, and the jogging stroller. I let him, because I figured I would catch him somewhere along the way. Surely he would stop to walk at some point like he did in September.

I never caught him, though. He was waiting for me at the finish line with his personal record of 27:49.

When I saw the news from Boston I thought about my seven-year-old. I thought about his standing alone at a finish line, how what happened in Boston could happen here, and how, whether we are ready or not, all of our kids will someday run on ahead without us. We will have to trust that they will find their way and that nothing bad will happen.

Amidst all of my emotions I have wondered how I will explain the lessons from Boston to my kids. My words will not likely be the best, but they will be in terms they each understand from our runs around the neighborhood. The roads before you will be tough in places. Let’s all try to stick together. Do your best to just keep on running.