The clock said 4:09 when the explosives went off.
This afternoon, in solidarity with other runners from around the country, I laced up my shoes and ran 4.09 miles.
I ran for Martin, an 8-year-old boy who wanted people to stop hurting each other, who dreamed of world peace.
I ran for Krystle, a 29-year-old restaurant manager who was there to take photographs.
I ran for the Boston University graduate student from China. Though unnamed, she is not forgotten.
Toward the end, I struggled for air.
But I would not give up.
I pressed through – thinking of all of the families that would have to press through in the days to come, recuperating from physical and emotional distress, struggling to get through another painful physical therapy appointment. Or worse: to come to grips with the death of a loved one.
Boston, my heart goes out to you.
I stand with you.
I run for you.
And I pray that God’s peace will meet you right where you are.