If Runners Ran The World...

"If we cannot end now our differences, at least we can help make the world safe for diversity."  ~John F. Kennedy

As you read about previously, two weeks ago I was in Oklahoma City running a half marathon.  As I stood there that dark, early, cold morning along with 25,000 other runners and thousands of spectators, I couldn't help but think that if runners ran the world, it might just be a better place.

LOKG and me at the starting corral

As we stood there shivering in the cold (wishing that I had worn a hoodie instead of just my hot pink arm warmers), thousands of people gathered around the Survivor Tree for a sunrise church service.  Thousands of heads bowed in prayer, thousands of voices singing the words of Amazing Grace.  In that moment, denominations did not matter.  No one cared if you were Methodist or Baptist or Catholic or LDS.  No one cared whether you went to a church that believes in sprinkling or immersion  It did not matter what version of the Bible you had on your nightstand.  Because there, in that moment, everyone stood together.  Faithful.  Together.  Undivided.

Survivor Tree Service

The entire race was about those 168 people who lost their lives in the bombing 13 years ago.  There are no bibs numbered 1-168.  Those numbers are reserved.  There are banners with the name of each victim along the race route.  And at the starting line, when it became time for 168 moments of silence--one for each of the lives lost--25,000 runners turned off their iPods, stopped their nervous chatter, bowed their heads, and made not one sound.  When one man behind us tried to whisper during this time, everyone near him shushed him and he zipped it.  These seconds were precious and sacred, and they were not going to be disrespected or disturbed.

The 168 people killed in whose honor we ran.

After the silence, the singing and cheering and jumping around began.  Everyone encouraging each other, with statements like (my favorite from a nice lady near us) that no matter your time, you are beating the couch.  Beating the Couch became my mantra for the day!

And everywhere you looked you saw some act of support for Boston.  Red socks.  Green shoe laces.  Stickers saying that we all stand together.  T-shirts promising prayers.  All of these acts--no matter how small they may be--were a perfect sign of support and unity and defiance of acts of terror.

And as the race began, nothing changed.  We may have been breathing harder and smelling worse, but the same qualities that were seen at the finish were seen during the race.  When a man fell about two miles in, several of us stopped to help him stand up and get back on his way.  We did not know him, he was hairy and sweaty, we will probably never see him again, but in that moment he was one of us, and he needed help.  So we gave it.  No questions asked.

We waved at spectators (particularly those with signs like "Chuck Norris never an a marathon!" and "If Westbrook can play the 2nd half with a broken knee, you can run a marathon!" and "Keep going, keep going, that's what she said!"), encouraged each other, and thanked the volunteers with the water.  People with shirts proclaiming that they were fueled by beef ran next to those with t-shirts screaming vegetarianism.  This country girl with an iPod full of running songs by Miranda Lambert and Reckless Kelly shouted encouragement to a man running in a pink skirt.  OU fans and OSU fans ran side by side.  There were 25,000 people, all with different backgrounds, thoughts, political beliefs, all ran toward one common goal.  And that goal was achieved.

If you ask me, the world should take a lesson or two.  About acceptance.  About kindness.  About determination.  About perseverance.  About tolerance.  Heck, just about life in general.  If it did, it might just be a better place.