Today was a dark day that started brightly.
Or a bright day that ended badly.

Isn't that the way things like this go?

So often we don't know which miraculous or horrific things we'll meet on any given day.

Suddenly, a bright day in Boston — the streets packed with people from everywhere, celebrating the joy and determination, the strength and dedication, the deep tradition and utter wackiness that is a marathon — turns into sorrow and mayhem.

There's hardly a thing to say.
We have faith that justice will be served.
We have hope that goodness will prevail.
And we grieve the loss of lives and limbs and innocence.

I'm a runner of many, many years — too slow to ever make Boston but there in spirit.
This is wholly inadequate, but for now it's all I've got.

Haiku 15

Each time we lace up
it's a promise and a wish
to start and finish