The highs and lows of parenting and real estate.

Not Terrorized

Dear Boston Marathon Terrorists,

I don’t want to tell you how to do your job or anything, but I kind of think you picked the wrong crowd for this bombing. I’m not saying I understand the intricacies of your work, but isn’t the whole point to incite terror? To make people so afraid of what you might do next they lock themselves in their homes out of fear and cut themselves off from the world and living life?

Yeah, so let me tell you a little bit about the sort of people you targeted with your senseless violence:

People who run marathons get up every single morning and pick the rough road with the better view. They set a goal and put one foot in front of the other despite screaming bodies and mental exhaustion. These are the types who get knocked down again and again and get back up every time. No one runs a marathon without nearly failing (or actually failing) on a regular basis. These athletes have a special kind of resiliency of spirit that empowers them to keep going past all natural physical and emotional boundaries.

People who support marathon runners are just as tough. Without the support of their family and loved ones runners would have no hope of accomplishing what they do. If a marathon runner is a brick wall, their friends and family are the mortar that fills in the gaps and allows them to be stalwart.

These people give zero fucks about your agenda. They eat pain and adversity for breakfast. They have already proven they will let nothing come between them and sucking the very marrow out of life. The idea that you, and your miserable, pointless, disgusting violence could do anything but cause these people to redouble their efforts to truly enjoy every minute they have, is laughable. You are horrible, but not terrifying.

I’m not even a marathoner, much less a Boston marathoner. I’m barely a runner. But I’m not scared of you either. And I’m certainly not going to let you keep me from getting everything I possibly can out of my short existence on this planet.

You are an ant on the ankle of the human spirit. We might freak out a little bit when we see you, and yes, you’ll leave a mark and some pain, but we’ll brush you off as though you don’t even exist. You have no power against us.

What it all comes down to, is not only are you human filth, but you’re also pretty terrible at your job. You should look into another line of work.


A Sad, But Not Terrorized, Runner

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