For my city, for my friends and family, for my running community, for my home.
I was running along side my uncle on Beacon Street, cheering him on. He was running in memory of my cousin, who passed away from cancer four years ago. My uncle was doing great and told me he couldn’t wait to be done and celebrate with a beer. As I veered off and rejoined the crowd, I got word of what had happened. I turned around to find my uncle but he was already gone. I instantly thought of my family, who was supposed to be waiting for him at the finish line. What happened after that was a blur of trying to connect with people, people trying to connect with me, trying to re-connect with my friends who I’d be with.
Thankfully, my friends and family are all safe, and I was able to connect pretty quickly with everyone to let them know I was, too. But I know some were not as lucky. My thoughts and prayers go out to all the people who lost loved ones yesterday.
As a runner, who recently completed her first marathon, I feel heartbroken. Crossing that finish line was one of the best moments of my life, and to know that some were robbed of their moment, is a feeling I can’t quite put into words. As a Bostonian, who grew up around the Boston Marathon and Patriot’s Day, who has always dreamed of one day of running the historic race herself, I feel empty.
It’s interesting to see when things like this happen how people come together. Friends who you haven’t heard from in so long, reaching out to see if you’re okay. Strangers offering a hand and helping out. Regular people becoming heroes. Today, I choose to focus on the love, instead of the hate. I choose to remember the thousands of good people in the world, instead of the few evil. While I walked through Boston today, around the scenes above, this is what I also saw…
There is so much love, pride, hope, community, and strength in Boston on Marathon Monday. And no one will ever take that away from us.
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