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The Marathon

Yesterday was a weird day. I got about 3 hours of sleep last night after being at the Marathon route, and leaving Boston at 640p.m. for my two flights to Las Vegas, and waking up at 5:30 a.m. this morning, still on Boston time. I have that horrible feeling I had after September 11th when you don’t know what is going on, or how to help, or if you and everyone you know and love is really, truly safe.

I can’t quite wrap my head around it all, so in order to attempt to get back to some normalcy, I wanted to share with all of you what my day was like. I was not at the Finish line, but close enough that the cops told us to leave.

Before I get into the muck of yesterday, I want to tell you about Marathon Monday. Patriots Day and Marathon Monday is a celebration. For those of you who haven’t experienced it, the entire city of Boston shows up either to run, or volunteer, cheer on the runners, or honestly, a lot of the revelers party and use it as an excuse to day drink. Two years ago when I first moved to Boston I did a combination of the last two with Laura. She had just moved to the city, and we started our day by walking to Newton Center and cheering on the elite runners. We took the T into Hynes Convention center, and by that point the entire city had descended on Back Bay to watch people cross the finish line. We stopped and had lunch, and drinks. After, we very slowly swam upstream through the clogged sidewalks of people to the finish line right by Prudential on Boylston Street. We met up with my ex-boyfriend and his roommate to watch people cross. I wish I had my personal computer with me so I could share a few of the photos I took of the guys in full army gear crossing together, and people wrapped in American flags. It was a joyous day. Laura and I spent the entire day out, made new friends, and really wonderful memories.

Yesterday I decided to meet friends in Coolidge Corner 2.2 miles from the finish line. I drove over, because my friend Jen told me there was parking in front of her apartment. I met up with her and her roommate at 12:30pm, and our friend Meg and we cheered on the runners. Some runners write their names on their arms, or on their chest, and we called out there names getting back peace signs, fist pumps, waves, smiles or cheers back. The people who had just run 24 miles and only had 2.2 to go were in great spirits, running for charities, in memory of friends, family and loved ones, or just to “Run Boston”, and they were proud to be completing the Boston Marathon. My friend from work, Allie, also came out to cheer. Our group dwindled down because of work and school duties, so Allie and I took a break to grab lunch around 2pm. We ran into another friend of mine, Natalie, who was cheering in the same area. We finished our pizza and walked back to the route to continue cheering. The crowd 2 hours after we first started watching was definitely a little slower, and a little worse for ware, but their spirit was still incredible. It was a little after 3pm, and the woman standing next to me said to no one in particular, “Two bombs just went off at the finish line.” I grabbed my phone and went to twitter, of course. I saw breaking news from ABCNews that yes, bombs had gone off at the finish line. Right away I saw something I hadn’t seen yet, two cops started walking the line right in front of us. Immediately they said, “you all need to go home, we’re clearing the route.” I didn’t ask for a confirmation. Being the daughter of a Deputy Sheriff, I know to leave an area when I’m told to.

Allie and I walked back to my car; I called Jen to tell her what happened and not to come back out. I called my dad to tell him what happened, and that I was ok, but I couldn’t get through. I called my mom. A volunteer was walking by and started talking to Allie and me about what happened. He had a live feed of the finish line on his phone, and showed it to us. I told my mom what was happening, and I started to cry. I had no idea what had happened, or what was going to happen, or why I was crying.

We sat in my car for a minute, and the text messages started coming in from loved ones seeing if I was OK. I drove the short 2.7 miles home, in the opposite direction of the blasts, so that we could be safe, and watch the reports coming in on the news. We watched literally every person on the street and in their cars on their phone, assuming that they were trying to get through to loved ones just like we were, but circuits were busy. Only texts were coming through for a while. My dad finally got a hold of me. He tried to calm me down, as only a dad can, especially one who in that situation would have been a first responder. I updated my Facebook to give an overall, “hey, I’m ok” note, and responded to all the texts I received. I sent a few to folks I knew who ran, or were at the finish line to meet loved ones. All were and are ok. A few voicemails popped up from folks who tried to call and get through, and I was able to talk with one of my oldest friends Scott who I asked if he had a magic phone that could break through busy circuits. I got a Facebook message from my BU friend, Michelle, asking if I wanted her to come pick me up to get out of the city. She lives 45 minutes away.

It was overwhelming and amazing to receive so much love from so many people. Especially the numerous texts from my sister Annalisa telling me she wouldn’t feel better until I was safely in Las Vegas. To think of Vegas as a safe place shows just how crazy yesterday really was.

I had a huge headache from holding back tears as I boarded my plane, but I had seen the large presence of Boston PD when Allie dropped me off, and that made me feel better. Also, the people in the security line, and on the plane, many of whom had just ran the marathon, were in seemingly good spirits. None of us may have known exactly what was going on, but the spirit of the Marathon is larger than two bombs can attempt to tarnish. People run for so many reasons, charity, honor, hope, love, and people volunteer and cheer on and support the runners for the same reasons. The city comes together because it’s a beautiful, wonderful, exciting and amazing event. New Englanders, and the visitors from around the country and the world know what a special event the Boston Marathon is. While I still don’t understand what happened, and probably won’t for a few a while, I know that through all of this, people have shown a great amount of courage, pride and love for each other, and for this great city. I’m proud to be a Bostonian, even if only temporarily. This city is truly beautiful, and unique, and the people are as well. I know Boston will bounce back from this. I know that next year, the Marathon won’t feel quite the same as it has in years past. But that will not keep people from lacing up their shoes, running up Heartbreak Hill, and high-fiving strangers along the route.

I took a few photos yesterday. This was one from the route. The Boston marathon is a great experience that I’m glad that I was able to see from the finish line two years ago. I can't imagine how the folks who witnessed the explosions are feeling right now. My heart and prayers are going out to all of them. This has broken the hearts of Bostonians, but won't keep them down. Of that, I'm certain.