A mourning marathon

I feel compelled to say something about the events in Boston today.

Quite frankly, I don't know what to say. There are no words that will make it go away, nothing that will undo the damage wrought by whomever is responsible for this heinous act.

Reports of 2 dead, and the number of injured keep climbing (whether by actual numbers or media one-up-manship).

I'm sick.

Sick of sport being used as a platform for a political cause.

Sick of people thinking that harming others is even an avenue for attention.

Because that's all it is. A big "look at me" from some one (or some ones). That "me" may be a person, a cause, whatever. They're taking something -- a celebration of sport -- and making about something it is not, or at least something it shouldn't be. Making it about them.

I don't know how this kind of thinking survives past any one's fifth birthday. I've seen it in toddlers, but most people grow out of it, or at least learn that the world doesn't have to stop every time they have something to say.

And I'm sick just thinking of the people who ran this marathon. Families who were there to cheer on their loved one as they completed what may have been a bucket-list event. For many, Boston is THE marathon, the pinnacle of what the common man could accomplish in running.

And what is going to happen going forward to events in the future? You can't undo the psychic damage. People will always think of this day when they line up for any major city sport event. The same way people think of September 11, 2001, when they board an airplane.

I mourn for those who died.

And I refuse to live my life in fear.