Just yesterday, I wrote of the importance of sport. Today was Jackie Robinson Day. It’s Patriots day. Today was the day of the Boston Marathon. There’s a lot of symbolism in this day.

It’s a day that is meant to be cherished. Celebrated. And for a while, it was. And then everything changed. They call it terrorism because the senseless act of violence incites terror. It works too.

Everybody I know that was in Boston today is fine. I’m happy to hear that. But at the same time, like New York 12 years ago, I have this pain in the pit of my stomach. There’s nothing I can do. I’m helpless. All I can do is look forward to tomorrow, another day. And when I do, I can think about the marathoners that ran directly to the hospital to donate blood. I can think about how all over the world, people got together to gather in peace and remember. There was no talk of revenge tonight at the vigil for Boston. Just a few words, some anguish over the sadness of it all, and a run. It was a simple gesture, but it was exactly the right thing to do.

Terrorism only works if it break us. If it cowers us. The bombs today did change me. They galvanized me. No longer will I say “I am not a runner.” As of today, I am. I might not be any good at it. I might not run very far. But I am. A. Runner. Today and forever.

I will not succumb to terror. It will not beat me. Not today. Not ever.