Let us throw off everything that hinders

Saturday, April 18 was this year's 3.2 for 32 run, and my second time running. I remember last year, feeling that impostor syndrome when I signed up because I had only run twice that year. Well, I ran zero times between last year's event and this one. But somehow, I knew I'd be able to run it. No impostor feelings now, just a stupid reckless impulsive confidence. Maybe it was the sunshine, but all week long I'd had the feeling that it was going to be a brilliant weekend. Working counter to the Anxiety Narrative (that probably terrible things are in the works at all times), this conviction of grace buoyed me right up to the starting line (my Jackson5 music on the iphone didn't hurt either). What a gift. What a beautiful day.

Before the race, the 32 white balloons are raised for a moment of reflective silence, to remember the 32 lives lost (though in my opinion it really ought to be 33. The gunman was a person too). I got to thinking as we stood in silence, the only sound the pinging of everyone's phones.. Why do we do this?

Why a 5K to remember a massacre? Students were murdered one morning, and we have balloons, flowers, and running? How does this help?

I think what bothers us so much about tragic, early deaths is the apparently meaninglessness. One morning, these people were going about their business, bright futures ahead, and the next day they're gone, because of the darkness in one of their fellow student's soul. And we don't have answers, and this hurts our pride. We are humans! We deserve answers! We deserve meaning! So in the absence of apparent meaning in an event, we make some. We feel we owe it to our fellow humans to make some sense out of their deaths. So we do rituals. And we actually do create meaning. In this way we show a strong family resemblance to God. 

Anyway, once the maroon and orange balloons were elevated and everyone began to cheer, the running part began and I could no longer do philosophy. With music in my ears and with very good company, we set off! 

It was all running from the start to the mid-point, at the football stadium. There, we bottlenecked and I got a couple of pictures.

Into the tunnel, where the football team usually enters.

Silly mid-race selfie. I like the faces behind me, blurry with life energy. 

I do love this portion of the race. You feel like an athlete for this part.

It felt good to have run that. I am convinced I ran faster this year, though I don't remember my time from last year. I surprised myself with how many people I passed, and how many places I felt like stopping and didn't, and how lifted up I was by the people cheering on the sidelines, the pep band playing the the sight of cadets carrying heavy loads like these along the way:



So we do this to make meaning out of tragedy, and we do it to to remind ourselves that, like Momastary says, "We can do hard things."

Other life challenges do seem more manageable after a 5K, somehow. Well, after a 5K and some ibuprofen!

After the race, there was a line at the 4.16 memorial to pay respects to the fallen. I said a breathless prayer.

I hung around the finish line a while, cheering for folks, waving at people I knew as they finished, and got a chance I've been hoping for for years: 

A hug from the Hokie Bird! 

Once my co-workers crossed the line, we had a couple pictures at the finish.

So stylin' with my fanny pack. I will bring them back. 

There's a larger than life significance to a 5K that honors people gone too soon. It does seem important somehow. These words from Hebrews were running in my mind, so I'll end with them:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles. And let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.

I feel lighter now, somehow. Also, sore.