The Unexpected Similarity of Risks Faced by St Sebastian and Boston Marathon Runners

On the day before the marathon my beautiful wife of almost 21 years wrote a Facebook post that ended up being more of a premonition than we would ever have anticipated.  Here it is:

So . . . that crazy dude I married (Kevin Frick) is running the Boston Marathon tomorrow! He's crazy, but wish him luck! And he better get back here fast and in 1 piece!

She called me a crazy dude in this case. I suppose some may question the informality of "dude" between 43 year olds but that was not really the main thing that caught my attention. The crazy part caught my attention more.  When she met me at Penn State she knew I had been a high school runner but she didn't see me running all the time. The most running I did was during senior year when I regularly met a former roommate who had also been a high school runner and we prepared for a 5K. Even then she thought my running was crazy (or at least something that she would not do) as she called me after midnight the  morning of the only race I ran in four years to tell me that she was the Pente champion among her friends on her internship. 

Crazy in this case mostly means that I am doing something she would never do and does not quite understand why anyone would.  It is okay that we don't see eye to eye on running. I return the favor when it comes to skiing.  So we are even. 

But the part that caught most people's attention on the day after the Boston marathon was her comment to get back in one piece.  Runners pull muscles. Runners get strains. Runners fall. Runners even occasionally have a broken bone or torn ligament or other malady that involves something coming apart but we don't usually think of a person in such a situation as not being in one piece.  

And on the day of the race other than some muscles that were exceptionally sore during the race I avoided all the injuries one would normally anticipate. 

But little did she know when she wrote it that there would truly be a risk of not coming back in one piece. 

How does this relate to the tattoo and the St Sebastian story?  Well, he was shot by archers.  Piercing wounds.  And the tattoo on my leg depicts Irene coming to his aide.  Irene would have been the one to remove the arrows and attend to his wounds.  I was lucky enough not to be one of the runners or spectators who needed to have wounds like that tended.

And there were not just piercing wounds from the shrapnel of the pressure cooker bomb with impaling items inside.  There were also wounds that were serious enough to lead to amputations  I believe the count was ten people who required some amputation.  Those unfortunate individuals truly did not come back in one piece.  And of course the three fatalities.  Not only did those three individuals not come back in one piece, they did not come back alive at all.  

We never would have guessed in advance that that would have been a risk about which to be concerned.  But now I will forever associate my wife's posting in which she wished me good luck in the biggest race I ever ran with people not coming home in one piece.  I am thankful that I did, but the reminder that some of the others who were there to share the joyful Patriot's Day in Boston in 2013 did not will always be there.  I will forever associate the tattoo and the piercing wounds of St. Sebastian with a risk that I was able to avoid but that other runners and spectators were not.  I carry the message online forever (at least according to the popular expression that points out that once something is on the internet it will always exist).  I carry the tattoo which will always be on my leg.  And I will carry at least a bit of associated sorrow in my heart, in my soul, and in my mind forever.  It is inescapable.  I don't think it will slow me down on a daily basis, but when I am alone (and sometimes that is when I am running) and I let myself be affected by the deepest parts of my psyche that I otherwise try to keep buried, it will be there and it will affect me.  

Still, Sherry's wish may also have helped to protect me in some way.  And, if I had been unfortunate despite her wish I am sure that she would have been the strong woman I know she is to help me and to help my boys through the experience.  

I chose a scene with St. Sebastian and his rescuer (Irene) because Irene represents the many strong women I have had the opportunity to know in my life.  Sherry is one--and the most important one.  The one with whom I have committed to spend my life.  The one with whom I have three amazing boys whom I am glad were not in harm's way.  The one with whom I don't always see eye to eye on what is important and what is crazy but with whom I have a joint tolerance of and appreciation for the things each of us loves.

Some of the other strong women are those who have been training partners sine I started running again and particularly since I qualified for Boston.  And they will be the subject of my next entry.   

A Prayer to St. Sebastian--Protect Me in My Athletic Efforts

This morning I went out for a 14.1 mile run at 5:40 returning at 7:30.  I ran to the zoo and back with a lap around the Druid Hill reservoir.   I have included a picture I took this morning-sights like this make it worth running early in the morning, even if alone.

For a run from 5:40-7:30 in the morning (even at this time of year and on into the summer) I don't tend to use a lot of sunscreen.  But similarly to morning of the Boston Marathon, I did use sunscreen in one place before I went for my run this morning.  I carefully sunscreened the tattoo to preserve the image as carefully as possible.

The five second description of the image is a modern reinterpretation of artwork depicting Saint Sebastian being rescued after being shot by archers--using 1930's Baltimore to guide the skyline and the clothing.  St. Sebastian is the patron saint of athletes in the Catholic church.  When I decided to get a tattoo, this was not my original idea, but as I went through a process of discernment, I was drawn to the symbolism inherent in a patron saint.

I have said prayers asking for intercession from St. Sebastian to God on my behalf (that is the standard approach to invoking a saint in a prayer in the Catholic church as we only pray to honor God but we may pray to particular saints to ask for their intercession on our behalf).  And, much like the several races before the Boston it was a simple prayer.  Asking that I would be blessed to give as much effort in my experience as St. Sebastian had put forth in his experiences and that my experience would  show to glory of God.  I also through in a comment about protecting my health.

Why did I make a comment about protecting my health? There is a risk of death when running a marathon.  It is not high (0.75 per 100,000 runners according to an article at http://articles.baltimoresun.com/2012-05-15/health/bal-marathon-low-deaths_1_marathon-health-benefits-mortality-and-disability).  But it is there and a couple years ago when there was a cluster of marathon related deaths (which we have not seen again since that time) my extended family had been quite worried.

I never imagined the risk to my health that actually did occur that day.  In fact, no on in my running circle had.  I doubt anyone in my family had.  My prayer was a naive one.

When the day was over, I realized just how blessed I was.  Was I protected by my prayer to St. Sebastian?  I will never know.  I ran a good race.  The attackers chose their time to attack for whatever reason they did.  My finish and the time of their attack did not coincide.  Could just have easily been dumb luck or good fortune as anything having to do with a prayer.

But the next time I pray to St. Sebastian before a race I will pray with a different set of risks in my mind.  Will I always pray to St. Sebastian before a race? Probably.  It is difficult to forget the prayer when I have St. Sebastian drawn permanently on my leg.  What risks will I pray for protection from?  Unfortunately, they will always include the risks of a terror attack looking ahead.  And even if it is just all imagination, it is psychologically helpful to think that there is something out there bigger than me--some being, some purpose, some cause--that for whatever reason has protected and continues to protect me in my athletic efforts and efforts in life in general.  

Blisters from the Sun

A fun riff to play on my electric bass is the riff from the 1983 Violent Femmes song, Blister in the Sun.  On April 15, 2013, when I was running the Boston marathon I was not thinking about that song.  At first glance, the only link between the 1983 song and the Boston Marathon in 2013 was that when I ran track and particularly cross country in high school, a bunch of guys loved to play that song on their boom boxes and sing that song.  And that was the first stage of my life at which I had running goals to speak of.

However, I think of blister in the sun now because in the Boston Marathon I got some pretty serious blisters from the sun.  Just a change in preposition.  I should have known to apply sunscreen.  All winter long I had not worn a running singlet very often.  When I did wear a running singlet it was usually for a pre-dawn track workout when it was early enough.  So, my shoulders were not getting any sun for months.  And, needless to say, three hours in the sun starting at 10 o'clock (rather than a more traditional race start time like 8 AM) led to a lot of sun exposure.  

First thing on Tuesday morning when my family saw me at home, my whole family noticed how red my shoulders, upper arms, neck, and head were.  It didn't hurt much on Tuesday but by Wednesday it was blistering and peeling like crazy.  The peeling and itch lasted almost a week.  That was incredibly frustrating.  Even today--11 days later--there is still a bit of itching.  

The frustration actually came from two different aspects of the experience.  One aspect was that I should know better.  After all, my mother worked at a dermatologist's office for many years as I grew up.  I have had major burns before.  And at some level, I realized that I would not be in the shade much given the time of day of the race.  So, it was a foolish mistake.

The other frustration was that it was a constant reminder of the day.  As I was trying to move on, the reminder was pretty constant. 

Here is what I thought about.  I had let my skin get burned and it was blistering.  I was uncomfortable.  But every aspect of that was because of a choice I made—or more literally an action I failed to take.  I don’t think of it as having “chosen” not to put sunscreen on.  Instead, I think of it as simply failing to do something that I know I should have done.  I suppose that at some level it is just a matter of semantics.  In either case, I did not act in a way that I should have known to act.

Every time I scratched where it itched from the blistering.  Every time I put aloe lotion on.  Every time I saw skin peeling off in the shower.  When these things happened, I thought not only of my own skin issues but the injuries that those who were too near to the explosions at the Boston Marathon had experienced. 

I realized that I had a choice.  Those affected by the explosions did not.

I realized that I should have anticipated the consequences of my choice.  There was no way for those who were affected by the explosions on April 15 to anticipate what would happen.

My skin was burned.  The injuries of those who were affected by the explosions were much greater than that.

My discomfort would eventually go away.  Many of those who were affected by the explosions on April 15 would have to live with their injuries forever.  They would never be able to forget that day.  They would never be able to leave it behind.

All I needed to do was to put a little aloe lotion on.  That I could do completely for myself with supplies that were readily available.  Those injured by the explosions on April 15 needed many other individuals to help them and depended incredibly on the kindness of strangers.

It was very difficulty for me to deal with. 

The ironic thing was that I did have sunscreen with me.  Did I think to apply it to my face?  No.  Did I think to apply it to my arms and shoulders?  No.  I did apply it one place.  I applied a lot of sunscreen to my right calf.  That is not a place where I have traditionally gotten a lot of sunburn—except for days of standing or sitting outside for long periods of time, such as when we are at the beach and I forget to apply sunscreen.  However, I put the sunscreen on my right calf to protect my tattoo.  It was very well protected. 

The tattoo artist I worked with had told me that it would not take more than two or three bad burns to really make the work she had done and I had sat through look like mush.  I wanted to protect the tattoo.  So, I was careful.

Looking ahead I will continue to work and protect the tattoo.  And the next entry in this series of blog entries will be about the tattoo.  I know that I have written about the tattoo in former blog entries quite extensively.  The process of getting it lasted from last March until this January.  But after the Boston Marathon I have a whole new appreciation and whole new interpretation for the meaning of the tattoo.  

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.  

What Am I Running Toward--or From?

I got back into running in 2006.  It was part of a return to exercise to get back into shape in general in the beginning.  Then, over beer at a local Irish restaurant one night after a worship band practice, someone challenged me to run to train for a half marathon.  It was a distance I knew I could do in high school and that seemed feasible to return to.  Until I reached that distance Labor Day weekend 2007 that is what I ran toward.  I had wanted to participate in the Baltimore Running Festival in 2009 but decided to register too late. I had not realized the popularity of the event

After a hiatus to take care of professional matters, I returned to running again in 2009 and ran toward the Baltimore Running Festival--this time understanding how early I would have to register.  And meeting that goal (although with a time that left me dissatisfied), in January 2010 having seen one colleague and one student run the marathon, I decided to set my sights on the next goal to run toward.  At the time, qualifying for Boston was not high on my list.  I was just trying to see if I could go the marathon distance and the idea of running a 3:20:59 (what I would have needed to qualify at that time) seemed unattainable.

I ran that first marathon in 3:39:48.  It seemed a long distance away from the qualifying time.  But I had also gotten into fundraising through running and so the next big race to run toward was the Maryland Half Marathon in 2011.  I had heard great things about it although that year it moved from its original location in Timonium to southern Howard County.  Beyond that I was raising funds for a new organization--the University of Maryland Cancer Center.  That race went well, although not perfectly.  After that I aimed for the Baltimore Marathon once more.

I ran toward that with everything I had and achieved a 3:22:05.  I had reached the end of my fund-racing for a while (to borrow a term from Back on My Feet), but could see that the 3:15:00 (which was the new qualifying time) was within my grasp.  Suddenly the Boston Marathon became what I would run toward.  From mid-October 2011 until April 15, 2013, that was one of my main purposes in running--and exactly what I was running toward.  I ran two more marathons to qualify--each time aiming for the 3:15:00 I needed and finally meeting that in March 2012.

From then on, I committed not to run another marathon until Boston (which I stuck to) but I did keep training and doing as well as I possibly could at Boston was always at the top of my mind.  Every tempo run--towards Boston.  Every track workout--toward Boston.  Every Saturday long run--toward Boston.  And every in between race--toward Boston just getting ready.

Then I registered.  Getting ready for six months from registration.  The drive up.  Everything was about getting ready and moving toward the race.  Then on race day the ride to Hopkinton and the wait at Hopkinton was about moving toward the race.  Then once I started the race it was all about moving toward the finish.  All very clear.

After the end of the race--even before the explosions--things were less clear.  Why?  It was sort of like when I got promoted to full professor back at the School of Public Health and my next question was "now what?"  For racing, the question is also "now what?"  Eventually I found the next step in my career--my new job in the Carey Business School.

Whether I will find a next step in my running other than just "continuing to run for fitness" remains to be seen.  I have promised my family no more marathons for a while--more than a year at least.

And since the explosions last Monday I feel like I have been running from things rather than running toward anything.  I have run seven of the last nine days.  That is more days than I usually run.  Some of those runs have been high quality runs and others I have had to push through.  But those push throughs have taken my mind off last Monday.  Even just running--oddly enough--takes my mind off last Monday.  In fact, I think it takes me to a time in my mind before last Monday.  It is escapism.   Especially when I run alone.

Over time, I think less frequently about the events of last Monday and it becomes easier to let go.  And the runs become less about escaping.  But for the time being they are helpful as a way to run from the things that I don't want to relive every day.  Remember yes.  Relive those first uncertain moments and the devastation of hearing about three deaths no.

Just some more processing.  

The Race Clock at the Finish Line Said 4:09

When my friends and I saw the footage of the explosions while we were still in Boston last week after the race we saw the time on the clock at the finish line: 4:09:something.  I read one report online that said it was 4:09:43.  However, I will not necessarily remember how many seconds were on the clock years from now.  I will remember the 4:09 for the rest of my life.  I know that we were trying to sort out why the clock said 4:09 from the start.  The explosions happened at 2:49.  The time since the start of the race had been 4:49.  We were confused as to why it appeared that the clock had been restarted at the start of the third wave.  Perhaps everyone from Wave 1 and Wave 2 had finished.  But I had never seen a race that reset its race clock at the finish line.

I have been trying to make sense of why the time was chosen.  Perhaps I will continue to grapple with the 2:49 a bit more.  But for now, I will focus on the 4:09.  There were some initial reports that the average time for a marathon in 4:10 so this would have been expected to affect the most people.  However, the time was 4:09 from the start of the third wave.  And the average time does not mean the most likely time.  If the attackers were really interested in the most people, they should have sought the modal time rather than the mean time.  In addition, if you look at how races proceed, they should have struck when the leaders came through.

But I don't really want to know the reason for choosing 4:09:something.  What I really want to know is whether the time can help me to find strength in a bible verse. So, I began at the beginning and Genesis 4:9 (leaving out the zero in this case).  According to the USCCB the verse reads:

Then the LORD asked Cain, Where is your brother Abel? He answered, “I do not know. Am I my brother’s keeper?"

Just about everyone has heard the story of Cain and Abel.  Everyone knows that this verse comes after Cain killed Abel.  But I am not focusing on the death so much as Cain's basic question--"Am I my brother's keeper?"  There are so many ways to interpret this relative to the events of last Monday.

Let us begin with the basics.  Two brothers involved in committing the attacks.  If the two brothers were really acting as each other's keepers perhaps they would have told each other--not such a good idea.  As if this was not a bad enough example of not acting as each other's keepers, the act that the younger one who has survived and is now being questioned apparently ran over the older one at some point in trying to escape.  Definitely not acting as each other's keepers.

Second, we can see another obvious point.  The two brothers had no sense of being the keeper of any of their brothers or sisters.  They indiscriminately injured and murdered.

But if we ask did the runners, the supporters, and the first responders act like they were each others' keepers, the answer is yes.  Even on the course, runners were helpful to each other.  Runners encouraged each others.  Out on the course runners helped each other after the explosions.  Bystanders helped athletes.  Bystanders helped each other.  Runners even went and donated blood afterwards on a day that most would have normally spent taking a risk.

So the question is one that many of us grapple with many times in life.  What we are left to consider is how people take this or don't take this seriously.  The more people who take this seriously (and we saw some truly courageous people who didn't even pause to think through it) the better the world will be.

Visceral Hatred and Redemption

Last week when I wrote my first post-marathon entry, I wrote about how the death of an eight year old I did not know had inspired me renew my efforts to live every day of my life to its fullest.  I thought afterwards that it was easy for me to write that since I did not know the eight year old.  So, his death was just a concept for me.  But one thing that has bugged me ever since last week is that it did not necessarily have to be an eight year old I did not know.  While my family was not there and had never expected to come to Boston to watch me, they could have.  And while the explosions occurred 90 minutes after I crossed the finish line, there is (as yet) no logical reason for the explosions having occurred at 2:50 rather than at 1:20.  So, I have spent some time dwelling on the what ifs that leads to.

On one of my overseas work trips I read a book by Frank Herbert (author of Dune) called The White Plague.  The gist of it is that a US bioengineer was in Ireland at the time during which the IRA was exploding bombs relatively frequently.  He lost his wife and son in a bombing caused by the IRA.  That pushed him over the edge enough to create a bioterrorism virus that nearly destroyed the world.  I read the book with an interest in the description of the search for the person, government's reactions to the bioterrorism, and the struggles the main character had after he launched the bioterrorism event.  I did not take seriously the premise that the death of a wife and child could push someone that far over the edge.

After last Monday, however, I could imagine it much more easily.  My eight year old was safely 400 miles away.  My wife has never been to Boston.  And yet the fact that someone could attack something so dear to me in a way that could even possibly put my family at risk brought up a hatred in me that I don't recall ever feeling before.  This even exceeds any emotion I recall feeling after September 11, 2001.  I felt desperation back in 2001 but not this level of hatred.  For me, September 11, 2001, was a horrible incident but it was also "conceptual".  In contrast, the issues here felt so much closer to me.  And I feared what I felt.  But writing that I felt it at all helps me to let it go.

I am not suggesting that I would have reacted as the character in the novel.  But, I am saying that I could have imagined snapping out in a way I had never imagined before.

But at Boston Marathon plus six days, i.e., Sunday April 20, I think I had a bit of redemption.  The day was certainly part of my rebuilding process.  And others may or may not see this as a part of redemption.  But I had to confront some of the issues from last Monday head on and brought my faith out in doing so.

I teach Sunday school at the St. Pius X catholic church as I have for a decade.  My class this year is third graders.  I thought long and hard about what I was going to say to the students before class yesterday.  I had decided not to bring up the Boston Marathon events unless the students brought them up.

And so we began class with the Lord's Prayer and then I asked what students wanted to pray for.  One student had heard about the Boston Marathon events at the 8 AM mass.  (I should probably say been reminded of as I am sure all the students heard about it during the week.)  Another student remembered that I had told them I would miss class the previous week because I was going to run the Boston Marathon.  (It had seemed like a harmless thing to tell them in advance.)  Then, we spent 15 minutes or so talking about the events.

I reassured the children that I was not in direct danger.  The students seemed to be having difficult coming to grips with why anyone would do this.  The best I could tell them was that I did not know.  So far, no one knows.  Then, I reminded them that each of us makes bad decisions sometimes.  I challenged them to think of bad decisions they had made and to try to think of why they did it.  They agreed that sometimes they had trouble figuring out their own poor decisions.  So, it was not unreasonable to think that they would not understand others' bad decisions.  I also told them about all the good things of Monday.  The 8,500 volunteers who helped runners all weekend and on the day of the race before 2:50.  I also pointed out all the good decisions and good people who helped others after 2:50.  And I pointed out the bad decisions the two men had made.  I challenged them to think about the Ten Commandments and eight Beatitudes.  And to remember that these are what we believe should guide us.

Finally, I pointed out that in our justice system, the surviving brother has not yet been proven guilty.  And I uttered the word forgiveness. I didn't make a really big deal of this.  I did mention how hard it would be to forgive.  And I don't expect anyone to forget.  But forgiveness (when a person is truly sorry) is a fundamental part of my faith.

Redemption?  Maybe.  Maybe it is just in my own mind.  But I have stated and let go of the hatred I felt and I have stated the word forgiveness--a part of moving forward and completely coming to grips with the experiences of the last seven days.  I cannot guarantee I would be talking about forgiveness if the dead or injured had been my relatives.  But I find that uttering the word forgiveness after thinking sharply hateful thoughts is part of my process of moving on.