United We Run!

United we run.

I left Friday night to fly to London, sad but determined. I was going to run the London Marathon without focusing on the horrific events happening in Boston and fight the urge of letting them define my way of life. That is what the terrorists want. They want to ruin our way of life. They want to disrupt your life, and I didn’t want that to happen to me.

However, as I was driving to catch MARTA, it was difficult to focus on anything else. It was distracting me as I tried to manage my day. Every radio was blasting the news of capture, or the killing, of a suspected Boston Marathon bomber in some bizarre shootout. I heard the terrorists were firing back at police and setting off bombs. I had to turn off the radio. I had enough. I needed to focus on the race and the tasks at hand. I went to a gas station to fill up my car and get a cup of coffee. The clerk was watching the TV, and commentators were reporting on the situation. The FBI had the second bomber trapped. He was hiding near a house.

I left and drove on to catch my train. When I arrived at the MARTA Station, two security officers were discussing the Boston events. As I was going through passport security in the airport, there was more discussion about events taking place in Boston. At U.S. Customs, I had to declare my purpose for going to England. “I am running the London Marathon.” The passport officer remarked: “I guess you really want to run this? I wish you luck, be safe. I hope everything goes OK.” I thanked her as I shuffled disheartedly to my gate. "Wow, this is a tough trip," I sighed. Here I am spending all this money and effort to run a race that is not even going to be any fun. But I am doing it for Boston, and I am doing because I want let the terrorists win.

Security at the Atlanta Airport seemed the same as any other day, but I did feel a sense of alertness everywhere. I saw people glued to the TV watching the sus[ected bomber in the boat. By 10 p.m., I was on board my flight and headed towards London. The flight was 8 hours of peace and quiet. I wouldn’t have to watch any more news about the bombers. It was a long day, and I was ready for some sleep.

There in my dreams, I would run a great race – I would get that PR (personal record). In my dreams, life was good and kind. That little Martin boy didn’t get killed, and no one got hurt in Boston. The world was safe.

It was Saturday morning when I arrived in London. I was feeling low again; I didn't have what it was going to take to run this race. I was not having any fun. And, I was dreading it. 26.2 miles, and I have no energy. I wasn’t where I needed to be. I didn’t have my heart in it.

I knew from experience that running a marathon takes a real desire to finish. A marathon is 26.2 miles, and that is a long way to run, especially if your heart is not in it. My grandchildren weren’t coming to watch me per my request. And my friend who was supposed to run with me decided not to run. Bummer! And here I was in London all by myself. And I kept thinking of the families and the victims losing their legs, and it was depressing. Instead of the family dream vacation it was supposed to be, this was only a run and not the highlight of my trip. I was feeling blue, far away from home, alone. I was here without any friends or support, fighting my sadness about Boston. I was confronting terrorists on my terms.

Security at Heathrow Airport was tight, and it was obvious to everyone that the events in Boston had reached across the ocean. London’s customs wanted to know my purpose for visiting London. As soon as I explained: “I am here to run the Marathon and return the next day,” the inspector seemed to come alive. She had an agenda to verify my story. She asked a series of specific questions designed to determine if I really was a runner. Finally she asked for my certified London Marathon race registration form and the letter from my charity to verify my fundraising cause. She took photo copies of my papers and approved my clearance. London marathon organizers had sent an email earlier in the week providing instructions that detailed this procedure. Without these forms, I would not be allowed into London or the race. As I stepped past the counter to enter London, I heard "Good luck, and Be safe."

I was used to hearing “Good luck,” but not the “Be safe.” Once again, I was determined not to be focused on the Boston Marathon bombing. I decided not to ask anyone about it, watch any TV, listen to the radio, or read newspapers. I would go to the Expo, get my bib, look at all the cool running stuff, eat some pasta, and go to bed early. London is five hours ahead of Atlanta in time. Meaning, if the race starts at 9 a.m. Sunday London time zone that converts to 4 a.m. Duluth, GA, time which means I have to be up at 2 a.m. to run. This was not helping my motivation. This would be my sixth marathon in six months. It never amazes me how hard these runs are to finish. I had to focus!

London is an amazing city with friendly people. However, I had forgotten how much London looks remarkably like Boston. I'm thinking purely in architectural terms, walkability, and pedestrian-friendliness. And to my surprise, London looked more like America than Europe. I say this because American fast food chains are woven into London's landscape. Today, London really looks like America with American stores and restaurant chains everywhere you look. You can become confused by the landscape when you see MacDonald’s and KFC on every corner.

The train ride, or “tube ride” as the Brits call it, takes an hour to get to the Marathon Runners Expo. My entire tube ride was filled with conversations with the locals about Boston and running the London. I wore a USA Flag pin on my suit jacket, and locals used that pin to start a convesation with me about America. I love to visit, and it was fun talking to locals to pass the hour until I arrived at the Expo.

(London’s underground tube system is much like Boston’s underground subway system. I couldn’t escape the connection. Reminders of Boston were everywhere. Twelve hours into this, and I still couldn't seem to focus.) 

I was fascinated by the British people's concern and compassion for the Boston bombing victims. The constant goodwill towards my fellow Americans was quite touching. I never realized so many people, from so many parts of the world, really cared about Boston. It turns out that the British population is just like ours. Regardless of where they come from in the world (and London has an incredible international population), they are united in the fight against terrorism.

Everyone I met at the Excel Expo was upset with the terrorists – upset about their freedom to run without concern and concerned about the safety of their children and their children’s children. It goes without saying, we have to find a way to stop terrorists. I felt like a sinking ship upon arriving at the Expo. I arrived at the Expo around 3 p.m. I assumed it would be all about the London Marathon.

I would finally escape my Boston sadness for a few hours at last and just focus on running the race for my charity NEWLIFE foundation for Disabled Children. Inside the Expo are 100,000 runners and family members enjoying nothing but running. At least that is what I thought. (By the way my charity still needs donations. http://www.justgiving.com/Russell-Kanorr Thanks!)

The London Excel Expo is simular to our Gwinnett Convention Center. It's very beautiful, and very large. When I turned the corner to enter the Expo, I couldn't believe what I saw. Inside was a huge wall with the words "London Honors Boston." There runners could pay tribute to Boston by writing messages on the wall, which stretched across the room 8 feet high. I was overwhlemed by the sight. Huge lines were formed to sign their names. I signed the wall along with the thousands of people before me. What a nice thing to do. 

I was given a black ribbon to wear. I put my ribbon over my heart and watched everyone there do the same. Here I was 4,000 miles away from Boston, in London, witnessing support from strangers from all over the world united against one common enemy – terrorism. After that I hung out a few hours browsing through the Expo. I left for my hotel in downtown London close to the Marathon's finish line near Picadilly Circus. A block from the end of the race.

Sunday April 21, 2103, at 2 a.m. I took the tube to the Red Start Group. The tube was free to ride if you wore your bib number – something Atlanta should do for the Peachtree Road Race. The security at the race was excellent and everywhere. Bobbies and security were at the toilets, the baggage drop off, the starting lines, in the race riding bikes, and standing on every corner of the entire race route.

Before the race, we all bowed our heads and prayed, then, there was a 2-minute “moment of silence” for the Boston Marathon runners, family and victims. It was moving and respectful. Runners wore messages on their shirt and painted on their body. I saw thousands of runners that day, and I did not see any without a black ribbon.

The streets were lined with over 250,000 men, women and children for 26.2 miles – the entire way on both sides of the streets. It was amazing. All the fans clapping, cheering and holding up messages: “We honor Boston,” “We love you BOSTON,” “Run 4 BOSTON.” It never stopped the entire race. Little "Oliver Twists" waving miniature American Flags. I was so proud of Boston, SO touched by the crowds. It was easy to run. It wasn’t long and I was having fun.   

I would run for FUN, and only FOR BOSTON. I didn’t want a PR any more. I wanted to soak in the sights. I ran over TOWER BRIDGE (we think it’s London Bridge.) I saw Big BEN! I ran along the Thames River, passed a palace. I ran past 20 of the must-see sights on the London tourist map. I ran through the streets filled with goodwill to mankind mile after mile. It was the opposite of what happened in Boston, to the runners, their family members and the victims. I was focused on the moment and forgot about the race, the tragic events and just savored the outpouring of compassion. It was my best marathon ever!

Why? Because the race was about “kindness.” It sounds cheesy, I know. It was a silent protest against terrorism. A 'love-in' from the 1960s against war. A huge "in your face!" Telling terrorists: Hell NO! WE WON’T GO! We won’t go! It was about the good people standing and running united against the few who hate. I was relieved when I finished the race. I was glad when the last runner finished and the race was over. No one was hurt, no bombs, no terrorist attacks, and no copy cat bombers.

I was happy again. I had been feeling sad and alone when I left home. I ran the race and finished the race, but I was never alone. I was surrounded by a “Great Society,” a world full of good people that believe like we do – who believe that love is a stronger force in the world than hate and that bullies will never own us. I made 287,000 friends this past weekend, and I know “WE ARE UNITED!” against a common enemy. We all won the race and we sent the message: “HEAR US, and HEAR US LOUD. GIVE UP TERRORISTS, YOU WILL NEVER EVER WIN!”

P.S.: I got the medal!

Russ