Boston

Almost immediately after waving to my family when I run an official race, I start to pray. I pray that my run is physically safe ... no falling down, no twisting anything, no causing problems in a dense field of people. I pray for a good run, that I feel good about my effort from beginning to end. I say prayers of thanks that I am physically able and mentally strong to take the endeavor on. I pray in thanks that I am supported and given the time to participate. I pray that my family has a great time on their own adventures while they wait for me whether they have time to enjoy a full meal or have just enough time to sneak into a coffee house on their way to skiddoo-ing to catch me at the finish line.

Never have I ever thought to focus prayer on the safety of the fans nor even of the runners at the finish line. What's happening in Boston is inexplicable. As I told Aaron just a little bit ago, I don't even yet know where to put the flood of feelings I have. But, I do feel like I want to throw up a little bit.

I listened as NBC's Brian Williams did a beautiful job describing what those 26.2 miles mean in terms of dreams. Might I add what they mean in terms of effort. Decisions. Determination. Heart. Family.

Unbelievable. For me, unrelatably relatable.

Please take a moment to pray for all of those in Boston.