We hurried home from Eleanor's swim lesson and then all sat on the couch to watch the women's race, a rare treat to get to watch so much tv in the middle of the day. As we cheered for Shalane Flanagan and Kara Goucher it was so much fun for me to spot places I recognized on the course or answer Eleanor's questions about why some people run way out in front or cross over from one side of the street to the other. We did puzzles and colored and yelled in Portuguese when Ana Felix, a runner from Portugal was out in front of the women's race. We even ate lunch on the couch so we wouldn't miss the last 5 miles of the race.
At the end we were screaming for Shalane to stay with the lead pack and not drop off but she couldn't quite do it and came in 4th. Eleanor was heartbroken and cried for a long time. I thought those tears were going to be the worst part of our day.
When Matt called and told me to turn on CNN because a bomb had gone off at the finish line, I went into shock. I watched the images of the runners finishing and then the explosion and the smoke and chaos with disbelief. I couldn't stop putting myself in that scene and thinking I could have been there, that could have been me, my family could have been standing in front of Marathon Sports waiting to see me finish.
After I checked in and found out that my family and friends were ok and got the kids put to bed without letting them know what was going on, I watched more CNN and saw the same images replayed over and over. And I kept thinking: These are my people. I know them. I've been a runner finishing that race. I've been a spectator standing on the side cheering for people I didn't even know but who just ran the Boston Marathon and that is an awesome accomplishment. I saw myself in all the images and my heart broke for all those people who were injured or killed.
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| Me running Boston in 2009 |
Ever since I ran my first Boston Marathon in 1999, Boylston Street has held a special place in my heart. After running 26 miles, when you turn onto that street and see the masses of people cheering for you, it fills you with such joy and pride, it's hard to put into words but it gives me chills every time I think about it. All the faces that you see as you finish are people who are happy for you and proud of you, even if they don't know you. To think that terror struck those people, that those people were maimed or killed is a horrible thought for me. Boylston Street is supposed to be a happy victorious place and yesterday it turned into a scene of death and destruction.
Those spectators are also the people who make it possible for those of us who run to put in all the miles and train for such a big event. They carry the bags and give out the cheerios and make the signs and stand in the cold and they try to get as close as they can to the finish line so they can see us at that moment when we accomplish our huge goal. We would never have gotten there without them. My cheering section has been there for me at all my races. They hold their Go Mom Go sign and wait excitedly for me to go by. It's a dream of mine for them to be there on Boylston to see me finish the Boston Marathon, just as I'm sure many of the people hurt were there fulfilling the dreams of their family.
I didn't sleep very well last night, I was tossing and turning until 5 am when I got up, put my shoes on and went for my 8 mile run. I felt sad and frustrated and helpless and didn't know what else to do. I cried as I was running in the dark for all the loss and the injury and the heartbreak that happened at what had always been for me such a happy place. But as I got to my turn around point, I looked up and saw that it was finally getting light and the sky was a beautiful combination of pink and blue. It was a moment of beauty and it reminded me that the light will always come out after the darkness. I can't do much from here but I can put on my shoes and run.
"If you're trying to defeat the human spirit, marathoners are the wrong group to target."
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