The date of this post is April 15th to keep the timeline on my blog correct. But I am actually sitting here typing this over one month later, on May 24th. This is mostly because after the events that occurred on the day of the marathon I just didn't know what to say. I'm still not sure I know what to say. However I don't want to ignore it, or pretend it didn't happen because it is now a very big part of our history, and I was there.
I have had a connection to the BAA Boston Marathon since I was born. You have surely been told the story that my dad ran his first marathon a mere ten days after I was born. He promised my mom he only wanted to do it once. That was the biggest lie he's ever told. A few months later he ran his first Boston Marathon. I was about five months old at the time, and for every year of my life for the next 35 year, my dad would be back in Boston triumphantly crossing the finish line. Two of those years I joined him on the course and I felt so grateful to him for giving me that gift. I got myself there, but he was the one who made me want to get there, and he trained with me every step of the way.
To say our family has a connection to the marathon would be an understatement. My mom has been the captain of the Human Chains for over twenty years. Every single Patriot's Day morning she delivers a crew of volunteers to the starting line in Hopkinton and keeps everything in line with her firm and friendly attitude. Two years ago my dad decided to end his 35 year streak, and this year Dave McGillvray asked him to shadow him at the start of the race. No one just gets to do that. My dad was incredibly honored (and maybe a little terrified) to be asked. This is how he felt about his assignment on that day.
April 15th was a perfect day. Way too early in the morning I was excitedly riding the volunteer bus into Boston. Sitting next to me was my cousin Jennifer who was about to experience her first Boston Marathon, and up front was my mom, of course, happily giving her volunteers their instructions for the day. The weather was perfect, the air was crisp, everyone was happy, and there was no reason in the world to believe that it would not be the best marathon day ever.
At the starting line I met my friend Christina who was running her first marathon for Children's Hospital. She was so excited, and I was thrilled for her that she was getting such a perfect marathon day. I couldn't wait for her to experience all that the Boston Marathon had to offer. Amazing experiences that you never forget.
The start, as always, went off without a hitch. We watched while the most inspirational athletes flew past us, an amazing journey that they had worked hard for just ahead. Behind them thousands and thousands of men and women with a million different stories and reasons for being there ran by, some crying as they crossed the start because just getting to the starting line of the Boston Marathon is a journey of it's own. It was fun. We laughed at the costumes, cheered for the charities, screamed out our friends' names as they ran by. And as quickly as it started, it was over. And Hopkinton was quiet again. As we stood up from the curb, ready to do our clean up, we turned to see a bomb squad standing behind us with their bomb sniffing dogs. My friend Dave asked me if I felt safe knowing they were there the whole time. It had never occurred to me to not feel safe. I smiled at the crew, adored their dogs, and made my way down the street to clean up.
After clean up the volunteers took the bus to Boston. Almost every year that I have volunteered at Boston, I have taken the T out to the course to run some of our club members in. But this year no one needed me, and I was playing tour guide to Jennifer, so we stayed downtown and hung out with the crew. We had a beer in a restaurant and sat around chatting for awhile before it was time to head to the family meeting area to guide our runners back to the bus. My friend Marcie and her two sons Vann (4) and Gino (3) were with us, and Marcie suggested we make our way to Boylston to watch the finish for awhile. I was game, and I thought Jennifer would like it, so we asked our friend George how to best get over there. It was only a couple of blocks away, but barriers and TONS of people made getting around very hard. George told us the way, but then said to us, "Don't go. You won't be able to see anything, and it will be so crowded." I might have argued, but for some reason we all just said, "Okay." and went off in search of a coffee.
The crowd in the family meeting area was immense and it took us a long time to walk about one block away to a Starbucks. With coffee in hand we made our way back to our friends . Back at our spot we greeted some of our faster members as they came looking for a guide back to the bus. They had run amazing times and were all so thrilled (and freezing!). It was a happy afternoon.
Then we heard a loud boom. It made everyone stop. I looked at Marcie and said, "What was that??" Before she could answer we heard another one. "What was THAT??" I asked. We looked around for answers, but we were standing among tall buildings and could not see anything more than a block away. We considered some possibilities - a plane (hope not!), some staging falling down, a gas explosion - but no one had answers and nothing else seemed to be happening. More runners were coming in, still looking for a guide to the bus. Feeling uneasy, Marcie and I jumped at the chance to bring our friend Lisa along to the bus. While we walked I was trying to figure out, through text and internet on my phone, what the heck happened. "Here we are at the Boston Marathon. There are live cameras everywhere. If something happened it would be on the news immediately." I thought. But texts home to Ahren who had the news on provided me with no information. Nothing was on the news.
As we approached the bus an unkempt looking man came running down the street yelling, "There were two bombs at the finish line!!" I looked at Marcie who's eyes grew wide and I calmly said, "Consider the source." Moments later, ten minutes after the "boom", my dad, who had gone home with my mom after the start, called and asked me if I was ok. "Yes", I said, "But there were two really loud explosions and we have no idea what they were." I could barely comprehend his words when he told me that our friend Bob had called him from the finish line to tell him that, in fact, two bombs had gone off. I told him that we were with the bus, and that we would gather our runners as quickly as possible and head out. We hung up.
As soon as I reached the door of the bus, the driver met me to tell me to get on the bus immediately because we were heading out. I spent the next twenty minutes insisting that we were not leaving until our bus was full, and I knew where my uncle was. Uncle Jay had been next to me when we heard the explosions, but he did not come back to the bus. I wasn't worried about whether he was ok, but I knew he would run in to help, and I really hoped he would just come back to the bus. When the bus was full, and I saw him out the window I agreed to let the driver go. As we pulled away, I watched him head back to the finish area. I was not surprised.
For the next couple of hours my phone would not stop. People texting me to see if I was ok, or to see if I knew where other people were. We did not have the list of runners and volunteers on our bus, so for the entire bus ride people were calling out that they had heard from one person or another, and we would try to relay that information to the bus that remained in Boston. The first bus left Boston at 3:30. The second bus, with Uncle Jay, stayed until after 5pm making sure they had every last runner from the club on the bus. It was a brave and heroic effort. I was really glad to give Uncle Jay this hug later that evening.
However, days go by. Those who were injured begin to heal. Those who were killed were buried and mourned. And Boston, and the entire world joined together in such an inspirational way that it made me prouder that I have ever been to be from this beautiful city.
Two days after Boston over 20,000 people from around the globe pulled on their running shoes, and their blue and gold and ran for Boston. MVS was there.
And then the following Saturday, on a morning that was already better because we were able to wake up knowing the terrorists had been caught, I received a text from my dad asking if we would like to stand on the field at Fenway for a pre-game ceremony honoring all who were involved that day. It was an exciting, yet extremely emotional day.
Almost six weeks later I still don't really know what to say about it all. I have no inspirational thoughts. I am inspired by a nation that stands behind Boston while we say, "We will not let the terrorists take this day of celebration of health and history away from us." I am proud to stand among the city of Boston, and I will be more proud than ever to stand on the starting line again next year. I will not let the events of 2013 change my family's future with this event. It's in my blood.
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