Recap, Hillsong NYC & Central Park Solidarity Run for Boston

"Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep." ~Romans 12:15

To be honest, this week I haven't felt much of anything. I think I just kind of emotionally shutdown and was in a state of numbness in order to withstand the bombardment of stories about the bombing in Boston this week. I lived in my own little bubble taking in articles and blogs from news sources, runners, and spectators who had either witnessed the bombing, were impacted by it in someway, or felt the need to offer and express their personal insight on the matter. I scoured the internet for information and unfortunately came across some rather gruesome pictures. I think what bothered me most was the fact that these pictures didn't immediately cause me to want to vomit, because they should have. I think that's when I determined that my emotional system just sort of shutoff so that I wouldn't overreact in any sort of fashion. I just was and I absorbed information like a sponge.
When I first heard about the bombing, I was saddened. That sadness never turned to rage or anger, but I did kind of take the attack personally because of the potential impact it could have on the racing community in the future. Runners need their spectators and this could change our interaction with our beloved cheerleaders. I was also struck by the fact that it so easily could have been me there in the crowd or running. This became more apparent throughout the week when I had a discussion with a friend of mine who had come to watch me run my first marathon in 2007. Amby Burfoot being another one who was stopped short of finishing, and heard that one of the Runner's World editors was just up the street from the blast and ran the other way as a means of escape. Again, it's just crazy to think how easily it could have potentially been me, and my heart goes out to those who lost their lives or limbs. They have been constantly in my thoughts and prayers this week, especially when I go out for my runs.
He said, "I was upset because that could have been us and our crew and you and your dad running. It's scary then you think about the runners. You know from first hand experience you're exhausted and feel like your safety is the finish line because you get to rest after that. It took the safe element out of running." I couldn't have stated it better myself. On top of that conversation, another runner friend of mine whom I haven't seen in a year emailed me an account from the experience of her friend's running guide. They were among those unable to finish the marathon because roadblocks were setup at the end of Boyleston Street after the explosion. I also read about
In an attempt to regain some bit of normalcy in my life and not think so much, I ventured into the Big Apple to attend Hillsong NYC at the Roseland Ballroom to hear Brian Houston speak. I'm very thankful that I went because what he spoke about was exactly what I needed to hear in the wake of the events of the past week. His whole sermon was based on lyrics from the song "Glorious Ruins." The following is the chorus from the song:

Let the ruins come to life

In the beauty of Your name

Rising up from the ashes

God forever You reign

Pastor Houston spoke about how we all face some sort of ruin in our lives, whether it be relational, financial, or otherwise. His point was that God can bring glory out of the ruins in our lives. Proof of this was the fact that Jesus came down from glory to die on a cross for us. He also sited Ezra 9:9, as an Old Testament example of God's temple becoming ruins, which says, "For we are slaves. Yet our God has not forsaken us in our slavery, but has extended to us his steadfast love before the kings of Persia, to grant us some reviving to set up the house of our God, to repair its ruins, and to give us protection in Judea and Jerusalem." The temple that was in ruins was able to be revived and rebuilt by God. Another fitting example of how God can bring glory out of ruin involves the story of Lazarus. He had been dead for four days, but to bring glory to God, Jesus brought him back to life. If Jesus can bring a dead man back to life, he surely can rebuild whatever might be broken in your life. 

This message seemed very fitting after the events on Monday. Boston and the running community were shaken to the core by the bombing. Yet God can help rebuild the lives of those impacted if they only turn to Him and surrender their lives. Relinquishing control is the hardest part, but God has already proven in the past what He is capable of restoring after disaster strikes, and it tends to be better than what once was.

To cap off my day in the Big Apple, I went to Central Park around 2:30 in the afternoon. I had read on the Runner's World website and on Facebook that Charlie Lyons had arranged a solidarity run for Boston and that runners could meet at the Tavern on the Green. For an event that was only learned about via social media and word of mouth, there was a great turn out. Numerous NYC running club members and coaches were present. Even Mary Wittenberg, the CEO of NYRR made an appearance. The first 160 runners got a commemorative hat that said NY <3 B, and I was thankful to come away with one. After a couple of speeches via megaphone and a moment of silence, the runners took off, heading south, to do a loop of Central Park.
I felt pretty good for the first half, but began to struggle once I reached the hill on the north end of the park. I can't remember the last time I ran six miles without stopping, so it was God, true grit and thinking of those in Boston that got me back to Tavern on the Green. That and people commenting on my awesome pants. I figure if I can't get people's attention with my running speed, I might as well dress like a ridiculous fool and standout in my own special way. The finish was awesome for the fact that some of the runners who had already finished created a makeshift chute in order to high five people as they completed their run. It's definitely not everyday that I can say I got high fives from Charlie Lyons and Mary Wittenberg at the end of a run.