The first half marathon I ran was the Oklahoma City Memorial race. Oklahomans are painfully cognizant of the bombing that the race commemorates. Eighteen years ago tomorrow, domestic terror ripped through the city, killing 168 people, including 19 children under six years of age.
My running partner, Ellen, and I awoke to a thunderous chorus from the skies and a near torrential downpour. We had awoken early enough to eat and dress and wake up but instead we checked the Twitter feed for the race, expecting it to be cancelled. We may or may not have crossed our fingers.
Finally, we threw garbage bags over our heads and stepped out into the rain. It was the coldest May 1st in Oklahoma history, replete with sleet storms. But we arrived at the starting corrals all bluster, swagger and good cheer. We are not very smart sometimes.
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