This might be a very rambling post - I'm still processing what happened.
Mile 25. My body hurts, but I'm going to make it. I've been dreaming of these next few moments all day. I've worked so hard and even though I started the day with a very tight back, I'm going to cross the finish line of the Boston Marathon - a dream come true. I suddenly see Dave frantically waving on the sideline, screaming at me to stop and come over. My first thought is, "doesn't he know I'm about to finish? I can't stop now" - but the look on his face tells me something is very, very wrong.
"honey, there was an explosion at the finish"
"an explosion?"
"yes, an explosion, people are hurt. There's an alternate race ending....."
Then things go blurry and I start running again. I really don't understand what he just said, so I'm trying to process it. On the sidelines, people are still cheering, but there are people on the course. This is the Boston Marathon, why are there people walking the wrong way on the course?? Then I see the looks on their faces. They're crying. They look scared, worried, confused...everything you're not supposed to look like after completing the Boston Marathon...and suddenly I ran into a wall of stopped runners.
Then it hit me. There was an explosion at the finish line. People were hurt. They stopped the race.
We can't go to the hotel where the team was supposed to meet - it's at Copley Square where the bombs went off. I don't know if the rest of my team mates are safe. I suddenly hear Dave screaming my name again, I've never been so grateful as I was in that moment....
The next moments are a blur - I think I text messaged or tweeted my co-workers to let them know I was safe (I don't remember). I somehow have Dave's jacket on, and I'm sitting on the street corner sobbing uncontrollably. I think I realized just how vulnerable I was - I had no phone, no ID, no cash or credit cards...absolutely NOTHING but the clothes on my back and my bib number. How many times a week do I allow myself to be this vulnerable? At least three.
But here's the amazing thing that happened - people from the neighborhood came out with buckets of water, bags of oranges, paper bags, and charged cell phones and were walking through the throng of runners to make sure people had water, snacks, a bag to stay warm, and a phone to send a text message to a loved one to let them know they're safe. I somehow get an orange inserted into my mouth.
It takes us about two hours to walk back to the hotel. The sound of sirens is constant, helicopters are overhead, ambulances are screaming down the road; I keep trying to tell myself that they're just evacuating the medic tent at the finish line as a precaution. Then it dawned on me that people may call this a terrorist attack. Oh my god, we were bystanders during a national terrorist attack.
I've been very up and down since Monday - I get hopeful and hopeless within a few minutes, but here's one thing that has felt constant. Marathons are events that don't have any political agenda to them. It's a celebration of will, determination, and strength of the human spirit. As an athlete, it's an opportunity to bare your soul on the pavement, to show yourself what you're really made of. To remind one's self that regardless of the hardships we may face in the real world, that we create another world that is just for us, and in that we strive to great heights.
The Boston Marathon is an opportunity for people to volunteer, cheer, run, yell, drink, kiss random girls in Wellesley (I kissed 2), celebrate, BBQ, hand out oranges, and pretty much let your American Spirit rule the day....every runner on the course is important; and being the woman who started in Corral 9 of Wave 3 I can totally vouch for that - I felt like a total badass and rockstar because of the people along the race route.
Because of these things, we cannot let this bastard win.
Regardless of whether or not you're a runner, I'd encourage you to grab an old race shirt, and get outside this weekend for a run, a walk, or whatever it is you want to do. Don't let "them" win. We are greater than that.
I know this will be a healing process, I know I'll start to feel better, I know I'll start to sleep again. I'm going to race in a week and a half and I'll hit the start line wearing my Boston Marathon shirt because...
