While most of us were either just waking up or still sleeping in on Monday, tens of thousands of intrepid souls prepared to run one of the most famous marathons in the country. The biggest concern was how wind and rain might impact the 26.2-mile race. If only the weather had been the only condition to mar a normally brilliant day for Boston.
The news of the horrors occurring at Virginia Tech spread across the country just as runners began to make their way across the finish line. What a bitter reminder of both the endurance and strength of the human spirit and the vast evils of which that spirit is equally capable.
Both of these events put our own lives into perspective. The shootings at Virginia Tech are another page in what seems to be an ever more violent recent history for this country. After the shootings at Columbine High School in 1999, we were sadly reminded of the dangers all around us, and some we had never before even considered. But Columbine and Virginia Tech are even more terrifying in that they occurred at schools.
As President Bacow reminded us, schools are institutions of learning, exploration and growth, and importantly, are regarded as peaceful. These bastions of knowledge can share the world with their students as well as screen them from it. But when tragedies like Virginia Tech occur, it's impossible not to acknowledge that there is a world beyond the quad and the classroom, and that we are all members of it.
God willing, an event like the one we saw on Monday will never occur at Tufts, but sadly there is no guarantee. Each of us can only hope and pray that we will never face such a situation, and be grateful for the community we have. But for us, the shootings are especially poignant, to imagine a life so similar to ours being destroyed by such senseless violence and hatred.
On a day when hope and inspiration seemed absent, the marathon reminds us what endurance truly means. The strength and determination to run pales in comparison to the emotional strength it will take friends and families to overcome the loss of those killed in Virginia. Both, though, are testaments of our capacity to overcome adversity.
On Monday, watching from the sidewalk yards from the finish line, runners streamed by, some with smiles on their faces, others in clear agony, but all determined to finish. Writings on many of the jerseys proclaimed the purpose of running for mothers and fathers and children, to fight cancer and other maladies. Flags from America, Ireland, South Africa and more flew by. Kids trotted alongside parents, while elderly runners proved they still had some gas left in their tanks.
And fans cheered. We screamed out the names of strangers, encouraging wave after wave of runners as they neared the finish line. One of our friends began to cry. She had warned us before the race that she cried every year over how emotional it was watching the runners finish. And of course we had to tease her for this fact. But she was right.
Perhaps we didn't know all the runners we cheered for. But we all knew what they were doing was something gallant, something to appreciate. It seems like such an odd event, the marathon - that people would voluntarily submit themselves to the pain of running such a long distance. But at the race there were those among us who said they had never considered running the marathon before, but being there live, feeling the emotion, maybe they would someday.
Those of us who might run the marathon one day should feel fortunate because there are 32 individuals who will never get that chance, or any of the myriad experiences each of us will have. Their senseless deaths shake us out of the comfort of our lives and test our faith in humanity. But for those who could see the marathon Monday, it helped to remind us why so many continue running.
Andrew Bauld is a senior majoring in English and political science. He can be reached at andrew.bauld@tufts.edu.
