Every person that has participated in sports has, at some point or another, hit a wall in which their body has appeared to reach its limits. This is true even for those not particularly athletically blessed. Anyone with an inkling of competitive spirit knows the triumphs and tribulations that come with pushing past those limits.
This is what makes a marathon particularly compelling.
There are few things in life that human beings willingly subject themselves to as physically and spiritually taxing as the 26-mile trek from start to finish. For those participating in Monday's Boston Marathon, the finish line should have marked one of their lifetime achievements. Instead, two explosions left a completely different mark altogether.
It is often said that the worst in humanity often brings out the best in humanity, and Monday was no different. If the marathon is supposed to embody the human will overcoming, the immediate reaction to Monday's events showed us more.
There were stories of marathoners, who by all rights should have had nothing left, pushing past the finish line and straight to hospitals to volunteer to give blood. There were emergency responders and civilians alike, ignoring their own survival instincts, and running towards the blast zone to save lives even as the potential for more danger remained a very real possibility.
In this space we follow and write about basketball because the players involved let our imaginations run wild. In life we get caught up reading about the actions of these more ordinary people because they inspire.
Following their lead but not nearly living up to their actions, people from all over the country have flocked to see how they can help. It's in our nature.
With that in mind a few basketball artists have committed to donating all proceeds from their prints for the month of April towards Boston relief funds. Expecting a long playoff push from the Spurs, I will be donating all proceeds from April through the end of the playoffs. It's admittedly not much, but every little bit counts.