There are some newsworthy topics — acts of violence and pure evil — that are so indescribably sad that it’s almost not worth me mentioning them — dissecting the why’s and the how’s — here in this tiny space of positivity. This is, after all, a blog about running, about chasing your dreams, about setting the bar higher. The tragedy that occurred not more than 60 miles from New York City — in a town near my family’s summer home, no less — has no place on a blog like this. I, a writer, editor, and aunt of three with no children of my own, have no true right to put in my two cents.
But then there was the connection — that aha moment that makes you wonder whether you’ve been blind all along — on Monday morning’s short, three mile run. While not particularly profound or life-changing, I nevertheless felt the need to open that door if only for today.
I’ve been a morning runner for nearly seven years now, waking up before the rest of the world (except for all of you other morning fitness fanatics like myself) to infuse value into my day. In college, it was the woods of Ann Arbor. After, it was the villages of Great Neck. And for the last three years, it’s been the streets of Manhattan.
I’ve seen a lot on my precious morning runs, from the majestic Bethesda Fountain…
…and the increasingly crowded roads of Central Park come marathon season, to the quiet pathways along the East River…
I’ve seen breathtaking sunrises.
Hordes of suits, rushing out of Grand Central Station. Students racing to Hunter College up at 70th and Lex.
On Monday, however, while running between 1st and 3rd Avenue, from my apartment to the Queensboro Bridge and home, I couldn’t help but notice the little girl in a magenta tutu with golden curls, holding her father’s hand, clearly on her way to school. And the little boy in the puffy blue coat and the gray oversized winter hat — far too big for his tiny head.
Like I said, I don’t feel as though I have a right to comment on the tragedy of last week. I have no expertise, no true contribution to this national debate.
What I do have, though, is a sense of awareness — perhaps heightened by an act that shook the world, unfortunately, yet again. It goes without saying that it’ll be tough to ignore this (not that I’d want to) going forward.
- How have you changed your perspective lately?
- When I run, I think. Has this topic been on your mind?