After last year's heated Boston Marathon, I decided to take another shot at it. I re-qualified in May 2012 to get back in the race for 2013. The morning of I was more relaxed for a race than I have ever been, I'd promised myself to enjoy this year. I began my 2nd Boston in hopes for a light hearted, fun run. I set out the gameplan and went out relaxing into my pace. The weather was glorious, the fans were jubilant, and I think I smiled during a race for the first time. I had a big wide grin as I high fived small children, laughed at the signs of the Wellesley College girls, and enjoyed cheers with the crowd of Boston College. As I passed the finish line at 3:03, I was happy. The crowd, the pace, the environment was perfect. These days are supposed to be such a postive experience for runners, fans, and families. As are most races, most athletic events, and most big events where people are brought together. They're times where we can make memories and enjoy smiles, laughs, pictures.
As I made my way off of the course, I decided that I felt good enough to get to the meeting area and back to our friends house where we were staying for some rest. For once I didn't stop and watch, sit on a curb to enjoy the relief from the road, or go and meander around the finish for a bit. So I left and met my wife and friend at the family meeting area, and we went back to our friend's apartment a few miles down the road. After eating a sub and taking a quick nap I awoke to the news of this tragedy.
You didn't have to be at the scene of the explosions on Boyleston Street to feel the thunderous emotion that shocked the world on Monday. To hear of it hurt, it hurt your heart, and it might still hurt. For me knowing that just last year my family would've been right there:hurt. I would've been just behind them at 4:16ish pace. That "could have been" feeling hurts. To have just come back from the finish line an hour earlier made it even more realistic.
As an athlete and marathoner I feel like my community was attacked. I've felt completely helpless. It feels like something was taken from us, our safety was taken from us. You can't put a price on safety. It's hard not to feel angry, upset, furious that such a horrible tragedy could take place at an event that should be safe, and secure. You want to hold your family close and contemplate on the evil that exists on this planet. It leaves you asking why..?
I'm not sure that why is a great question for this situation. Trying to find the why in the small slice of evil in this world is difficult, because much of the time it's an evil that has no reason that any of us could ever understand or relate to.
I have to be honest, I'm still getting over this. It may take a while. All people 'round the world with compassion have felt the weight of this. But I have found great solace in knowing that there are some amazing people out there. Heroes from those opening their doors to strangers, those running at the blast to save people, those offering their medals to participants who couldn't finish, those countless people who went to the hospital to give blood, and there are many more stories out there, I'm sure of it. We rise to the occasion together;united.
Next year the race will have a different atmosphere to it. I'm certain it will be much more quiet, and reserved. But I hope we can run again together. Together as the 2:10 runner and the 5 hour runner, together as runners. I hope we can have our families cheering at our events again, and watching us from the finish line, I hope we can smile again, I hope we can go out there and honor those victims affected by yesterday's tragedy and hold our heads high for them, our countless heroes and for Boston.
I'll see you there,
D
Nicely put Dustin. I'm glad you are all safe.
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