Boston Marathon 2013.

In the days following the bombings, I had a lot of people ask me if I was ok.  My first reaction was kind of a twisted sense of pride in being able to tell people that I was there.  I readily repeated the phrase, "Oh yeah, I was there.  I was only a block away."   I don't know why it was important to mention how close I was.  I think I liked the drama.  Maybe it was a good story.  Either way, I liked saying it.  

When people asked me, I shared with them how chaotic it was on the streets.  I heard several people hysterically crying on their cell phones, and I walked by a guy on the ground with a bloody ankle.  There was so much confusion.  I wasn't scared, but I could sense that I was in the middle of something crazy.  What little information I had about the bombings came only from snippets of conversation I heard as I walked away from the scene.  I heard people saying and shouting the words "explosions", "trash cans", and "terrorists".  There was so much confusion, in fact, that I walked the two blocks immediately surrounding where the first bomb had just gone off, and I didn't even know it.

So, when people asked me if I was ok, I initially responded with, "Yes, I'm ok.  It was crazy, I was right there".  

But while I was at work this week, with my own life back to normal, I had a realization that made me a little emotional.

I realized that I wasn't really there.  Nope.  I wasn't there, because if I had really been there, I wouldn't be here.  I wouldn't be here writing this because I would be dead.  Or I might be in a hospital with my leg blown off.  That guy on the street with a bloody ankle...he was actually there.

I realized that I don't really know what it was like to be there.

What I can tell you is what it felt like to be a runner this week, and why I still feel pain in my heart.  I feel a lot of pain because of what running means to me, and because of what the Boston Marathon represents for so many people.

What makes me so sick about the whole thing is how calculated it was to destroy.  I don't doubt that it was not only meant to physically kill people, but in a very real way it was also meant to deflate hearts and discourage souls.  Perhaps whoever did this was discouraged and deflated.  That kind of breaks my heart for whatever they went through to get them there.

Anyway.

People sign up for the Boston Marathon because they want to do something great.  They want to know what it feels like to think they can't do something, but actually find out that they can.  People know that running the Boston Marathon is really hard and halfway crazy, and yet, despite their self doubt,  they put their heart and sweat and tears into finishing what they started.  They tell their fears to be quiet because they don't want anything to stop them from crossing the finish line at Copley Square.  People sign up for the Boston Marathon because they want to know what it feels like to finally realize that if they care enough and work hard enough, they can. actually. do. it. 

It's an amazing experience to run the final stretch of the marathon down Boylston Street.  The first year I ever ran the Boston Marathon, Boylston Street made me cry.  It was an overwhelming feeling that I won't easily forget.  The entire city comes out to celebrate what you worked so hard for, and they come together to be proud of you.  After so much hard work and uncertainty, running the Boston Marathon means experiencing the ultimate sense of triumph in reaching what seemed impossible only 6 months before.  The Boston Marathon is the crowd.  It is the city.  It is the goal and the dream.  It is the pain.  It is special.  It is victorious.  For many, it is a once in a lifetime chance.

I truly believe all those things.

The reason I get so sad about this attack is because I understand that emotional roller coaster of trying to reach a dream.  Running has given me the opportunity to feel it a hundred times.  It is a feeling I hold very dear to my heart, and it makes me cry every time I think seriously about why so many people were hurt on a day that was supposed to be a memorable and meaningful personal victory for them.

My heart hurts for the families and friends of those victims who were injured.  I am sad for those who lost their lives.  I take comfort in knowing that even though we can't bring them back, we can bring back our strength and our conviction to do amazing things in the face of fear and doubt.  I am so grateful that I wasn't actually there that day.  I have my life, and I feel extremely blessed that I was safe.  Because of this, I feel a very strong sense of duty to keep the dream of the Boston Marathon alive.

I just received a very powerful e-mail from the Boston Athletic Association that made me cry.  In regards to the bombings, they said the following:

"Our prayers are with the injured...we will be with you as you learn to stand and walk and, yes, run again.  Of that I have no doubt.  You will run again.  You will run again!  And we will run again.  You are strong.  Boston is strong.  And you and Boston have made us enormously proud.  The Boston Marathon is a deeply held tradition, an integral part of the fabric and history of our running community.  We are committed to continuing that tradition with the running of the 118th Boston Marathon in 2014.  We will all run again."

At first, I was actually unsure about whether to sign up next year.  I was a little nervous and a little afraid for my safety.  But after knowing that others will run and after seeing their examples, I have gained deep emotional momentum for this cause.  I am now planning on registering for next year's Boston Marathon the moment the registration is available.  For me, I feel that it is important to train hard and run fast for those who can't.

I hope I remember my feelings of sorrow this week, not to dwell, but to bring greater meaning and value to the joy I will have in the future.  I hope I don't take for granted the life that I have and the blessings of physical and mental strength that I enjoy.

Run Boston 2014.

These are some pictures I took on Tuesday, the day after the bombing.  These are the views of the last blocks of the marathon course on Boylston, looking in from Newbury through the cross streets.

Everything along Boylston Street has been evacuated and barricaded off.  Armed guards, policemen, and news crews are on just about every corner.

In this picture, you can see the entrance to the Mandarin Oriental hotel.  It was supposedly here, just out front, that they found a 3rd undetonated bomb.

You can see the white medical tent in the following 2 photos.  I sat in the med tent for a while after I finished my race, drinking Gatorade and bullion soup for quick recovery.  Immediately after the bombings, they transformed the med tent into a trauma tent for victims.