….what can you say about a week like this.  I’d blame it on a full moon but we’re a week away from that. Please forgive my rant, I’ve held so much in this week because work has been so incredibly hectic.

Monday started by following my favorite runners on Twitter during the Boston Marathon. Then explosions. Then disaster.

While I was a part of the running community, I loved races – even if I walk ran them. I loved the cheers. I love the sportsmanship. Every runner is running their own race for their own reason. Whether it be for health, charity, or fun, everyone has their reason. Every runner also has a goal for the race. Goals range from just finishing to personal best (PB or PR), keep a certain pace, pace my friend, don’t die. (As I sit here and read those last two words, I debate about deleting them. Am I being insensitive? No and I’ve decided not to delete because anyone who has or will every complete in a distance race/run will feel as if they are dying and will pray that they do not.) And unless a runner is perfectly fit all the time, there is a great deal of time and energy put into training, stretching, lifting weights just to be able to participate in the race.

The Boston Marathon is the holy grail of marathons. It’s the super bowl, world series, Indy 500 – take your pick – of marathons. People train for years to qualify to run. People train for years to qualify and never qualify. People who are not runners will go to Boston just to cheer for these athletes. In fact, half a million people were in Boston on Monday just to cheer.

26.2 miles. Can you really comprehend that distance? For example, I have a 10 mile round trip commute to work. That’s close to 3 days of round trip commutes. The thought of running to and from work every day for three days makes me cringe. These athletes do it for fun and in 3 to 5 hours.

My heart hurts for those that lost their lives or limbs, those still in pain, those who will never see their loved one again. My heart hurts for everyone who has ever ran Boston and mourns the sanctity of the race. Most of all, my heart hurts for those unable to finish the race because of this ridiculous act of violence. Whether they were held back on the bridge or had the finish in their sight, I ache for them. It takes so much fight – blood, sweat and tears, mental anxiety, and passion to finish a marathon and someone took it away from them for fun/revenge/spite.

The aftermath lingers on Tuesday along with a 12 hour day (left my house at 7:30 a.m. and returned at 7:30 p.m.) as new details are revealed.

And then Wednesday comes along and another tragedy in Texas. Hundreds injured and the number of deaths continue to climb….because they can’t find people. An entire community ripped to shreds in a matter of seconds. I pray it is not an act of terrorism….just a tragic accident.

I’m not going to lie – Thursday, I was spent. I was done. I wanted to curl up into a ball and sleep until the world got it shit together. I struggled through the day and let’s just say they don’t call it happy hour for nothing. I didn’t realize how much I was desperate for a happy hour. A couple beers, good food, great company – even if I had to witness friends eating oysters – it was an excellent distraction.

As I crawl into bed that night, I begin seeing tweets about the MIT officer, suspects, more bombs, carjacking – seriously. WTF? It was an incredibly restless night.

How did we get here? Why do people want to hurt each other? I just don’t understand anymore. And, because it is all about me, this is not helping my big birthday (35) funk that I’m in. How can I be pining over my lost youth when so many others have lost their lives this week? But that’s for another post.

I’m so incredibly thank for the things I have and am able to do. I pray for those who have lost and will continue to pray for the world to be a better place.