If you ran the Springtime Surprise 10-Miler, you saw this view very early yesterday morning. If you ran it fast, you saw it in the dark. If you ran or walked more slowly, you probably saw it like this. And neither view, just like neither pace, is objectively better.
There has been a lot of talk lately about running and pacing and respecting all shapes and sizes and speeds on the course. And here's the thing: running is a heck of a lot like the rest of life. You don't know what any given person is carrying onto the course. The person that wins is likely bringing a lifetime of hard work and sacrifice and training and focus. They are probably bringing decades of choice-making tailored to that moment. To that strength. And they're not doing it in a vacuum. They're doing it with all of the same demands and distractions as the rest of us, and likely a lifetime of prioritizing this in spite of all of that. And that's worth all of our respect.
But the person that stumbles last across the finish line is bringing an entirely different experience. Different challenges, different priorities, forced or chosen, different life paths that led them to this point. I'm one person, and I'll tell you that there are seasons when I've been honed in and training like clockwork despite the mess of a life swirling around me and I've ended those seasons strong as hell. And there have been seasons, like this one, where it's quite literally impossible to balance the demands on my schedule and still train like that. Where the achievement is more the finish line than the clock.
And I do think there's a place to honor both. I do think there's a place for Boston, where qualifying is itself a feat. And those people deserve to be celebrated. They are allowed their standards and they are allowed their time to shine. The level of dedication and sacrifice it takes to speed through a marathon is difficult to overstate. The strength that that takes, physical, mental, and psychological, deserves to be celebrated.
But the strength that it takes to get out there at all when you're living a very different sort of life deserves to be celebrated, too. Sometimes the finish line is the victory. But sometimes it's the start line.
So today, instead of giving you another nighttime view down Sunset Boulevard, I give you this equally stunning view in broad daylight—for all of the runners and walkers who were lucky enough to see this version of this view yesterday morning. Today we celebrate you.
Taken at 150mm, 1/2000 second, f/2.8, ISO 100.