Does it All Start Here?

It has been 28 days since the Boston Marathon.  This will be the 21^st essay I have written since then.  I have spent a lot of time working through my emotions around the post-marathon events. I continue to do so.  And I think I am nearing the end.  Yet, the title for today is “Does it all start here?”

I have noted on several occasions the sign at Hopkinton in the field by the school building that says “Hopkinton—It All Starts Here.”  And yet, there are so many points at which I could say things started.  I have named some of them already, but I will give a quick inventory.  I could say it started when I wanted to prove that I could do more than be good at academics.  I tried many sports.  It could have been when I decided to leave soccer behind and join the track team in the spring of 1984.  It could have been when I decided that track was not all I wanted and I decided to join the cross country team in the fall of 1984.  It could have been when I decided to stick with it and earned three varsity letters senior year.  It could have been when I returned to fitness in 2006.  It could have been when a friend suggested I train for a half marathon in 2007.  It could have been when I actually started and kept on running ever since in 2009.  It could have been when I started training for the marathon in general in 2010.  It could have been when I qualified for Boston in March 2012 at the Lower Potomac River Marathon.   And, it could have been when I actually began the race in Hopkinton.  Finally, and in line with this being the 21^st essay since the Boston Marathon and 22^nd in the series that I consider my Boston Marathon writings (counting one spiritual entry before the race), it could have been as I was going up Heartbreak Hill in mile 21.  The race really did begin there.  It was the time when I had to see what I was made of. In fact, my last three marathons were all about the last six miles.  This time it was all about making it up the big hill and then seeing what I could continue to do afterwards.  I managed a great mile 22 but after that point there was little. 

Why is all of this something that I ponder and particularly put it in the context of the events of April 15? 

I have wondered, where the whole process started for the brothers who are accused of the attack.  Where were they coming from?  How did they end up doing what they did?  What was the motivation?  What were they trying to achieve?  What was their goal?  Why did they make the choices that they did?  How could they possibly have decided to take on a choice that would bring about such destruction?  Such harm?  Such death?  And death to those who were innocent.  Death to those who were just trying to mind their own business.  Death to those who were just trying to enjoy a day out with their families.  Death to those who were just there to watch those who were enjoying the freedom of running as far as they could on a beautiful April day.  Why?  Why?  WHY? 

And the fact that their action had to be initiated somewhere is a reminder that both very positive (like the marathon) and very negative (like the attack) actions all begin somewhere. 

Sometimes the beginning is not 100% obvious.  Sometimes we don’t actually realize that something has begun until we are most of the way through.  Sometimes we only see the start of the path once we are on it, perhaps even half way down the path, and then we take a look back. 

Everything in life has a beginning. 

Relationship decisions.  Being married for nearly 21 years now, I think I have done okay there but it is interesting to try to pinpoint exactly when the relationship that now has been my marriage for all that time began.  And where did the bumps along the way begin?  And where did the things that helped me and my wife overcome them begin.

Where did each career decision begin?  How did I go from chemistry, to health policy, to health economics, to a school of public health, to a school of business?

Where did each decision about things at church begin?  The decision to start teaching Sunday school?  The decision to continue teaching Sunday school?   The decision to be part of a worship band? The decision to leave the band for a while? And the decision to come back?

Not everything has a great big sign where I get my picture taken at the start.  Not every decision has a clear starting line.  I am sure that people wonder about some of my decisions as much as I wonder about the decisions of the attackers in Boston.  And sometimes I try to give them answers.  Sometimes the answers are simple.   Sometimes they are incredibly context.  For instance, my most recent career move was asked about by a leadership transition coach with one question—tell me the story of why?

So, I suppose that my choices, while not representing evil like the attackers, are not necessarily clear to myself and to others.  Life is about making starts and sometimes pulling back.  Life is also about finishing and looking back in a reflective way and figuring out how I ended up on the path in the first place.  Life is about sorting out the starts and finishes on a daily basis and understanding what I have begun and how to bring it to an end. 

I simply wish that the two attackers had thought differently about their initiation of their idea to attack.  Although I suppose even they may be hard pressed to idenfiy exactly what one event moved them in the direction of the action they took. 

In the end, I continue to struggle with the fact that the actions taken do not have to be rational and calculated. 

That may be the biggest idea I have to let go of in order to come to grips with the series of events on and since April 15.  We will see if five more entries can help me to do that.

Do You Know What I Mean?

One of the most notable things about the wait at the school at Hopkinton was that one of the friends with whom I traveled brought a tarp.  This is not a rookie thing to do.  But it is something that experienced Boston marathon runners will often do.  The tarp is cheap but big enough for however many people to sit on rather than sitting on the damp grass first thing in the morning.  And the tarp is small enough to be stuffed inside one’s race bag if necessary when done.

Where we set our tarp down was near a sign on the field that proclaimed “Welcome to Hopkinton.  It all starts here.”  And we were also near a screen with some video (including text messages that were coming in—a sign of the times) and an announcer. 

The announcer had about 10-15 minutes of material that he pretty much kept repeating.  It was all well intentioned. It was useful information—the first time I heard it.  Thinking back, I know he was announcing some of the things that were available that morning.  Runners could get free pre-race massages.  Runners could listen to a sports psychologist talk about how to run a great Boston Marathon.  (All of this between my arrival at 7 and needing to get to the starting line by 10.)  And one of the most commonly repeated refrains being that there was an official photographer from the company that was handling pictures that could be purchased taking pictures by the sign about Hopkinton.  Every time the announcer talked about the photographer he was quick to add that when runners were in line they should be ready to step up when their turn came up and they should be ready to show their number since that was how the pictures would be provided to the right people.  Finally, he commented multiple times on how all this needed to be done quickly.  Given the number of runners, if all 27,000 registrants showed up and wanted their pictures taken and even if each took only 30 seconds, that would be 13,500 minutes.  Since there are only 1,440 minutes in a day, it was simple enough to do the math and recognize that I would take several days.  The announcer used multiple ways of describing the situation but made it clear that we would all be there until several days later (sometimes he talked about Friday or next week) and the race would be over and that would be less than ideal.  And at the end of every time that he made this statement he would say “You know what I mean?” 

I didn’t count the number of times that I heard “You know what I mean?” that morning, but it seemed like it must have been at least dozens and it may have been over 100.  At the end of every “paragraph” of his speaking he used exactly the same phrase.

So, as I think about my reaction to the situation that began at 2:50 PM on that afternoon—long after the last time I heard the announcer at the field ask “You know what I mean?”—I think about how I have processed it.  As I have mentioned several times in this cycle of writing and trying to let go, I have noted my understanding or lack of understanding (I suppose in this context knowing or not knowing) what was meant by this experience. 

What did the attackers mean?  How rational were they?  What was their rationale?  Did they have a clear rationale or not?  They meant harm.  Clearly.  What else did they mean?  Did they mean to slow an entire city down for a day—almost a week?  Did they mean to inspire terror or fear?  Was it a political statement?  I still don’t think that if one of them were to ask, “Do you know what I mean?” that much of anyone would be able to answer the question with anything other than the reply, “To cause chaos.”  And, if that were their only intention, they were incredibly successful.

I also think about what the event meant.  I wrote in my first post-marathon entry about a sense of needing to life live to the fullest.  But is that all that it meant?  Some have noted the “There but for the grace of God go I” feeling that comes from an experience like that one.  In a conversation with one colleague when I made reference to the fact that I figured he could imagine what I was feeling, he informed me quite plainly that he could not and that he had no idea.  So, he would answer to me, “No, I don’t know what you mean.”

And then there is life outside of running, and trying to figure out if people know what I mean and if I know what other people mean.  Personal relationships.  Do my wife and kids know what I mean?  What I hope?  What I aspire to in my new job?  What I think will happen in the long run after a transition period?  And do I, in turn, hear them and know what they mean about certain issues?

For people with whom I work now, do they know what I mean and do I know what they mean?  And how does our relative position impose upon each relationship a need to understand what is meant in either direction.  I just read something on this evening’s flight that said that sometimes in a workplace setting that something has to be said seven times before people get it. 

Circling back to the field at the school at Hopkinton, I suppose after hearing the message about available services, getting a photograph taken, and getting to the starting line each dozens of times, that is why I knew what the announcer meant.  Spiraling around one final time to the inauspicious events of April 15 (other than having to pay taxes), I am not sure that one apparently loosely organized terror incident with a response that was effective but for which some have questioned the implications for civil liberties, we still don’t necessarily know what the attackers meant or what it means to our society.  For that, I hope we don’t need six more events to find out.  I fear what seven of these events would mean to our society.  

Even After Boston There Are Non-Running Mornings

To use yesterday's terminology, even as I was running toward Boston there were non-running mornings.  Ever since my first marathon training experience, I had been told time again by a variety of sources that one needs rest or cross-training.  There was a list of reasons not to run every single day.  And that was fine.

Today is only the third non-running day since the Boston marathon for me.  The first was the day after.  Believe it or not, I have sometimes run on the day after.  I don't recall why I didn't run last Friday.  And today I may still go out for 3-4 miles if I have a chance, but I do not feel compelled.

Is it needing to rest?  In fact, no.  I met several friends of friends at the expo at the old Boston convention center and at the athlete's village in Hopkinton who actually talked about running every day (even if just a little) for a long period of time.  That is not necessarily my aspiration but it points to how little the body actually needs substantial rest.  At least for some people.

No, instead, I am looking at a long list of unanswered emails.  I am looking at some things that need to be done to straighten up the house.  I am looking at all the other things in life that simply require my full attention for a little while.

If there is one thing that marathon running teaches you, it is that when you need to give your full attention to something it really does require giving your full attention.  It is difficulty--although probably not impossible--to get ready to run a marathon without a full-fledged plan.  The plan takes attention and gets done.  When I am running, sometimes it is possible to go on autopilot.  But not always.  And especially for the more intense workouts (tempo and track), I find that I need to give them my attention.  

And, of course, running a point to point marathon like Boston (where the caravan of yellow school buses taking people out to the start at Hopkinton is quite an amazing site) teaches you that things have to be faced head on.  When you are taken by bus 26 miles from the finish line (and approximately 26 miles from an opportunity to get back to your car) you really have only one choice--take the situation head on, run to the finish line, and get on with life.  

Are there emails I'd prefer not to have to answer?  Of course.  Are there chores at home I would prefer not to do?  Yep!  But when all is said and done they need to be done.  And modeling my approach to the rest of my life the same way that I take on the challenges of a marathon will help me to stay on track, get things done, achieve, and lead a fulfilling life at home, with family, and at work in the same way that I do when I run.