I'm sure I'm not the only person in the world who never paid much attention to the Boston Marathon (or in my case, any marathon) ... until last year. The Boston Marathon last year was the top news story around the world on the day of the race not because something wonderful happened that day but because many innocent people who were present became the targets of a senseless act of hate and violence. Yesterday, the news was once again filled with stories about the marathon in Boston ... stories of survival, courage and triumph. I read a lot of those stories last night, looked at a lot of photos from the race and watched several videos of the people who participated in the marathon. There was one video in particular, however, that grabbed my heart in a big way ... the video of a woman who lost both legs in the bombing. I wept as I watched her cross the finish line with the assistance of her sister and daughter. Talk about strength ... talk about courage ... talk about bravery ... wow ... just wow.
For the last month or so while I've been out on my Saturday walks with Ollie, there's been a fairly good-sized group of teenagers and their coaches participating in various events on or around the track at the high school. Several of the kids have waved at me from week to week as Ollie and I made our way down the sidewalk near the track, and I always waved back to them and smiled. The first week I saw the teens, I noticed they were kids with special needs. And with every passing week, I grew more and more impressed with the courage and bravery those kids were displaying at the track and field events in which they were participating. But what I saw last Saturday ... what I saw last Saturday left a mark on my heart that will never be erased.
Ollie and I were walking along and I was waving in return to the kids who were waving at me when I saw two of the teenagers coming toward the fence that separated me and my hound from the track. At first, I wasn't sure if they were supposed to be where they were and was immediately concerned for the safety of the boy and girl who seemed to be on a mission to reach me and my dog. I quickly scanned the track area to see if I could find an adult supervisor within earshot that I could enlist to help get the kids back to the group. By the time I spotted someone whom I thought could hear me, the two teenagers were at the fence.
"Hi!" shouted the teenage girl. "You have a hot dog dog!" she said, smiling broadly and giggling.
"Shhh!" whispered the young man, "That's not what Mr. Tom said we could say. Let me do the talking, Lisa. I'll say it and you listen."
Lisa nodded and clapped as she squealed, "Okay, okay, just say it already, Billy! Say it to the lady with the hot dog dog!"
Billy sort of huffed at Lisa, adjusted his ball cap, cleared his throat, puffed out his chest and said in a very loud voice, "We want your dog and you to come watch us race. Come sit and watch us race over there." Billy pointed to the track and said, "Please lady, please you and your dog come watch us race over there."
There are signs posted all along the fence that surrounds the track ... signs saying no pets are allowed in the track and field area. I looked at the two kids ... Billy smiling and nodding his head at me, and Lisa clapping and jumping up and down while saying, "Lady with the hot dog dog ... lady with the hot dog dog ... lady with the hot dog dog!" ... I looked at the two expectant teens, and I knew that the most important thing I could possibly do that day was to watch those kids race. Billy and Lisa walked along the fence on their side, shouting directions to Ollie and I as we walked on our side. When we reached the gate, I explained to Billy and Lisa that we would have to stand there and watch them because Ollie wasn't allowed inside the fence. It took some work to convince them that we would stay there and watch them, and Billy even made me promise we wouldn't leave.
Billy and Lisa made their way back down to the track hand in hand and talked to a man I assumed must be Mr. Tom, who turned and waved to me and gave me a thumbs-up. I noticed Billy and Lisa point toward Ollie and I several times as they talked to the other kids who were lining up to run. One of the coaches blew a whistle for the race to begin, and about half of the kids starting running while the other half led by Billy walked off the track and up the hill toward me and my by then barking his head off wiener dog.
"Uh-oh," I thought ... "This can't be good, Ollie. We've distracted them from the race ... we are so gonna get busted by some coaches we don't even know, buddy."
I was trying to assess possible escape options when Billy yelled, "Sit down and watch us with your dog ... take a load off. Sit down and watch us race." I was instantly relieved ... relieved that the coaches weren't upset with me and my over-the-top excited hound ... relieved that I had on sunglasses so the group of kids couldn't see the tears that flooded my eyes.
Billy will never know the huge impact the events of last Saturday had on me, friends ... he will never understand how important it was for me to watch him and his friends race. He had no way of knowing that I needed to see them run ... to witness firsthand the pure joy on their faces as they tried their hardest to accomplish the task set before them ... to hear their words of encouragement as they cheered one another on ... to watch them stumble and fall and help each other up time and time again ... never giving up, never quitting, never complaining. Yep, what I saw last Saturday left a mark on my heart that will never be erased.
... and so we sat down ...
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