Love that Dirty Water!

I am just now starting to come out of my Red Sox World Series Championship-induced high.  What a fun month October was to be a Red Sox fan!  I started off the month feeling cautiously optimistic, given the embarrassment of the past few seasons for my boys.  It was also fun because, for the first time in 21 years, the Pirates made the playoffs/had a winning season, so Dan was as giddy as a schoolgirl over that.

I enjoyed being in Boston during the ALDS, although they were playing in Tampa at the time.  Strolling down Yawkey and Lansdowne never ceases to make this girl's heart flutter.  There was a fun little sign on Yawkey that paid tribute to the wide variety of beards represented by this year's team {which, by the way, I'm completely over.  Dan will tell you that I start to squirm if he has the slightest trace of facial hair}.

Admittedly, I gave in to my grandma ways and did not stay up like I had for the playoffs in 2004 and 2007, but, in my defense, I was a student during both of those playoff runs, so a little grogginess was more excusable.  I definitely remember walking around in a fog for about three weeks during the 2004 playoff run {if you'll remember, we had some late-night extra-inning games that year}.  I did stay up for Game 6 this year, because I wanted to witness the moment when the Sox won, if they won.  Boy, was it ever magical.  I know there are so many Red Sox fans who came before me who never got to see a World Series win in their lifetime, so I feel pretty spoiled that I have seen three in the past decade.

This team was a very special one, as I think this Globe article proves.  I think there was definitely a tendency among members of the press to overstate the importance of this World Series to the city of Boston in light of the Boston Marathon tragedy, but it's undeniable that this team provided a much-needed morale boost to a city that has had an emotional year.  It has been proven that sports are part of the healing process following a tragedy, allowing people to temporarily escape from their grief.  It brought tears to my eyes to see Sox fans flock to the finish line of the Marathon following the victory, down on their knees and taking a moment to honor the victims.  Despite the gritty reputation that Bostonians have, the city, and its residents, was profoundly affected by the tragedy.  Boston Strong, indeed.

A few other gems from the playoffs:

- A rundown gone awry

- Oh Prince, you are so…special.  Laughing for days.

Trying to Make Sense of a Tragedy

via A Blog About Love

I promise I will post about our hiking adventure from this past weekend, but I am writing with a truly heavy heart this morning and wanted to address those feelings first.

As all of you are probably aware, two bombs wreaked havoc yesterday near the finish line of the Boston Marathon, killing three and wounding more than 120, nearly 20 critically.  The attacks occurred on Patriot Day, better known as "Marathon Monday." Patriot Day is the most sacred of days in Massachusetts, with the entire state taking a day off from work and school to celebrate the Battles of Lexington and Concord, the start of the Revolutionary War.  The day truly does capture the extreme pride of the citizens of Massachusetts, who ring in the day by tuning in to the afternoon Sox game and the running of the Boston Marathon.  The bombs that ripped through crowds of innocent bystanders yesterday shattered the sacredness of the day.

On a personal level, while I may not live there anymore, Massachusetts is the state where I grew up, and it will always profoundly affect how I view myself.  To illustrate this, my Massachusetts license is due to expire next March, and I would rather not have a valid ID than have to trade in my Massachusetts ID for a Virginia one.  They can punch a hole in it, rendering it useless, but I refuse to fork it over.  The type of pride instilled in every "Masshole" for our beloved state is something that you can't really put into words.  Many people have a strong allegiance to their city, but mine is statewide, and, better said, region-wide.

A very close friend of mine was at the finish yesterday, watching a friend run.  Thankfully, through the magic of Facebook, I was able to see that she was fine.  However, when I texted her to tell her how glad I was that she was okay, she told me that she had left the blast site mere minutes before the bombs went off, joking that she had wanted ice cream and that that was the first time when her sweet tooth had been legitimately good for her health.  I am so grateful that she is okay, but my heart is broken for the families of the dead and of those still fighting for their lives.  My thoughts and prayers are with all of them as they struggle to make sense of lives cut short.  The fact that an eight year-old child was among the dead is truly sickening.  When will our children cease to be targets of acts of violence??? When will parents stop outliving their children?

Having run my first marathon exactly a month ago today, I tried to put myself in the runners' place, that of complete confusion in the face of sheer exhaustion.  The fatalistic part of me can't help but think, 'What if that had been my race? What if that had been my parents, my boyfriend and my friends at the finish?'  The thought that you could be putting yourself in danger of a terrorist attack just by going out for a run is enough to strike fear into any runner's heart.  But runners are a strange breed. We do what we do for reasons that we cannot really explain to anyone else.  There were so many stories of heroic runners who, immediately after finishing the race, continued running to Mass General in order to give blood.  So, even in the face of this tragedy, I choose to run.  I run for Massachusetts, I run for Boston, and I run for the innocent lives lost.  That's about the best that any of us can do.