At 9:02AM on the morning of April 19, 1995, the largest terrorist attack in U.S. history gutted the Murrah Federal Building in downtown Oklahoma City, killing 168 people, 19 of them children.

This last weekend I ran in the inaugural Oklahoma City Memorial Marathon, paying tribute to the victims, the survivors, and the heroic efforts of the many local rescue teams who worked around the clock to save human life in the face of this catastrophic event.

I arrived Saturday afternoon and found my way to the Memorial, which was built where the footprint of the federal building once stood. I was ill prepared for the rush of emotions that I was to experience over the weekend, yet I did not know a single person killed in this explosion, nor their families.

The Memorial is full of symbolism. First there are the two arches of time, at opposite ends of the 200 foot reflecting pond. One is engraved with 9:01AM, the other with 9:03AM, indicating the continuous of time where one minute is missing, or where time stood still as the explosion took place. One of the most poignant displays was the 7 rows of chairs, each bronze chair set atop a glass cube, as if floating in the air. At first glance they appear to be placed in an irregular pattern, but upon closer inspection they are arranged in rows, each row corresponding to a floor of the building. The rows differ in the number of chairs, as each chair depicts the death of a person on that floor. Smaller chairs are sprinkled throughout, representing small children who were killed. Many of the small chairs are concentrated on one floor, where the daycare center was located.

On a knoll slightly north of the foundation stands the "Survivor tree", an American Elm who, despite being at the immediate impact, still lives. Other trees have been planted around the survivor elm, symbolizing the rescue teams who rallied around to protect the survivors.

A children’s wall of colorful ceramic tiles, where the innocent artwork of children is displayed, artwork of grieving stick figures, of American flags, of sad and grieving parents and children. One especially moving tile depicts a stick figure mom with big round eyes, half full of blue water, gushing like a stream from her eyes. There was in inscription at the bottom but I couldn’t see it, fore my own eyes had suddenly begun filling with a similar blue water….

Sunday race day began with a 6:15am sunrise service at the Memorial, the start line was adjacent to the Memorial. This was followed by the National Anthem, not many dry eyes in the crowd. I came, paid my respects to the victims and survivors, ran and completed the race, but it was not my best effort, although easily the most emotional.

1700 volunteers supported 4500 runners, many who carried expressions of support for one or more victims. Despite the warm 75 degree temperatures and the constant up and down of the rolling hills, nothing was as surprising as the last 6 miles where 168 banners were erected in memory, one for each of the victims of the bombing. You passed under each person’s name along the route between miles 20-26.2. As I ran slowly along this final stretch, I was compelled to try to read each person’s name, some silently, and some aloud, and wonder why these folks had been chosen at this particular moment in their lives.

I am impressed with the caliber of this city. It is not necessarily a city full of art or cultural treasures, nor does it possess a magnificent skyline or mountains of seacoast… but it has a unique treasure of its own – its citizens. They went above and beyond anything needed to make their race a success. It was their first marathon and it was executed flawlessly. Although I set no PR and my time was poor in comparison , I nonetheless am a winner for experiencing this "tribute to life".