9 years ago I was living in an apartment in Scottsdale. My roommate and I were training for the Monaco Marathon. I was out for my typical morning run in the dark and when I got home I was stretching and doing some core work. I turned on the TV and watched as they showed a live feed of one of the planes crashing. To be honest, I don't remember much after that. Everything was consumed over these events. Everyone's lives were changed in some way or another.
Our training group had diminished into about half of the size. People were afraid to travel. I'm not sure if it was my young age and being slightly naive, but I'd be lying if I said the thought of NOT going even crossed my mind. It was 9/11 and our travel plans were to leave to Europe the week of Thanksgiving. We had trained for this huge event for several months, and most importantly raised thousands of dollars for UCP. I was not backing out now. Of course I didn't blame those who decided not to travel. A lot of people had young families and the risk to them was just not worth it.
The trip was absolutely amazing. We were among very few Americans in the race, if not the only and proudly wore American Flag tattoos on our arms. I've never experienced such respect and sympathy from so many strangers in my life. Probably the most memorable thing that happened on the day of the marathon was when another runner or maybe even spectator came up to myself and friend Colleen who ran the entire race with me. This person gave their respects to us and handed us an American Flag to carry through the finish in Louis II Stadium.