Tragedy...and perspective

A shiver passed through the running community last week when the news came out that two people died at half-marathons last weekend.

One of them was a 16-year-old girl named Cameron. Cameron and her best friend had excitedly trained together for their half marathon for weeks. Moments after the girls crossed the finish line together, Cameron collapsed and couldn't be revived. She was an otherwise healthy, active girl who played softball and swam for her high school.

Her death was not only sad, but scary. When healthy, active people die with no explanation after a race, it makes me realize: it could be me. Especially since I don't have the relief of already knowing I can safely complete one.

I know, that's a morbid thought. I know how statistically unlikely it is to die in a race and that I can be 99% sure I will be just fine; my chances of dying in a full marathon are actually about .000007%. But I'm not writing this to talk about how scary it is when runners die. Cameron's tragedy gave me some perspective in an unexpected way.

When I first read this story on Runner's World, I read the comments and one woman talked about how she had a heart condition, but still ran several half marathons - she just makes sure to take it slow and go at a pace that works for her body. I realized that woman could be any of the runners around me during a race. Or jogging by me on the sidewalk. Running is a personal journey, and every person in the starting corral is on a different chapter of theirs. We all have our own stories.

It's so easy to assume that all runners are the same, and the only thing that separates us is that some of us are faster and better than others. But we're not all the same. By getting so caught up in competitiveness and finish times, I'm missing something important. Every person out there is an inspiration. Some may run slower, some may have to walk half the race. But everyone out there has made an effort to get up and be active, to work hard to achieve something, to challenge themselves, and to have fun. Each person out there had a choice to get up and run or not, and they all chose to run. They all said no to laziness and inactivity. Every racer, not just the top finisher, is admirable. And I'm cheating myself out of so much of the richness of this experience by ignoring that because I'm too obsessed with my finish time and my own performance. Everywhere around me  are runners who have used running to beat addiction, lose weight, overcome health issues, or just become better people. And we're all here, accomplishing something together. A race isn't just a race, it's a big giant celebration of the best parts of humanity. We do ourselves a great disservice by not remembering that.

I would rather Cameron's tragedy not have happened, and that instead she and the other half marathoner who died last weekend got to absorb all of the joy of their accomplishments and the lives that lay ahead of them. I can only hope that Cameron and her family would be glad to know that her story has made me, and many other runners, more mindful of what really matters and more in tune to the real joys and inspiration that the sport has to offer.

And now, instead of being scared of my first half marathon, I couldn't be more excited about it. Just writing this blog entry has me thinking about all of the fun I'm going to have on race day, running with one of my friends, being back in Kenosha, achieving a huge goal, and being part of the race day camaraderie. I hope I even make a new friend or too :-)