Boston Marathon 2013 - Bigger than Me

It's Wednesday in Denver, Colorado. 2:20pm on April 17th, 2013, snow is falling outside. I am tired, emotionally, physically, mentally. I sit at my computer in my warm, safe home in the suburbs of what I like to think of as a pretty darn safe city in a pretty darn safe state in the most amazing and blessed country in the world. Every morning and night I thank my Father in Heaven, my God; for my husband, my children, my faith, our health and safety. Every morning and night.

Approximately 48 hours ago I crossed the finish line at the biggest and most important race I have ever run, the famed and prestigious Boston Marathon. Every marathon runner knows what it  is and knows what it takes to get there. And every marathon runner dreams of making it to this, the big dance of marathons. There is March Madness, the Superbowl, Stanley Cup, World Series, NBA Championships, the Masters, Kona Ironman Championships. . . and The Boston Marathon. I was elated, having had an amazing race experience. I wanted to race well, maybe get a PR, perhaps qualify to come back to Boston next year, but mostly I wanted to cherish the moments along the way. I wanted to remember my Boston Marathon experience. This was, of course, about me. I had done the work, paid the price, suffered the disappointments of failure along the way, and reveled in the glory of personal success. This was my day.

I passed through the finish line, all smiles and waving to the camera men, hoping they would capture a decent picture of my glory that I would frame and hang on my wall alongside the coveted medal I would receive shortly. Slowing to a walk and being shuffled through the coral by volunteers, I walked down the line as I received water, a blanket, food, and, my medal.
"It's cute" I thought, "I like it! This will look good hanging on my wall!" My thoughts continued,
 "Man it stinks around here, is that me? . . . probably. Along with all these other sweaty and stinky bodies . . . breath through your mouth."
"Keep walking, so many people, keep walking."
"Shoot that wind is cold," I thought as I pulled the space blanket tighter. I found the bus containing my race morning clothes bag and sat down on the ground near one of the busses to put some dry clothes on.  I would guess 15-20 minutes had passed at this point from the time I finished the race. I had finished 10 minutes over my personal record, and while a little disappointed  I was not letting it affect my experience, I ran the entire race in a place and at a pace that I felt I could enjoy the experience, not too hard, but not too easy either. Pretty early on, I knew the race was not going to be my very best, too much fatigue in my legs and body from multiple recent marathons. I acknowledged the fact, and moved past it to make the very best of what I had that day, a running of the Boston Marathon.

I did not wear my ipod, wearing it would have most definitely been a mistake, for me. I'm pretty sure I would not have heard anything on the ipod the whole race had I decided to use it! And why would I want to? The cheers and encouragement from the fans and the crowd EVERY STEP OF THE WAY were awe inspiring. 26.2 miles is a long way to run, and to have fans lining the course literally each and every step of the way cheering the entire time is quite a tribute to the people of Boston and the pride and love they have for this historic event. I was continually amazed, as I ran from town to town, at the tradition each of these places held to, and exhibited. The pride with which the fans cheered the runners on was amazing. I felt privileged to be running through their hometowns, through their Boston, their Massachusetts, their history, and their lives. Wellesley was everything I had heard it would be and more. I could hear the volume of cheers and screaming girls increase as I approached. I smiled the whole way through Wellesley - reading the silly, fun, and sometimes completely inappropriate signs made that stretch of the marathon quite memorable! I carried the smile with me as I continued on.

I then approached the Newton hills and the infamous Heartbreak Hill. As a runner you hear quite a bit of hype about this section.  I  had also been told that coming from Colorado, these hills would not really be hills. Miles 16-20 are where this section hits and rolling hills would be my most accurate way to describe it. The reality of the hills actually encouraged me and after mile 20 I had my fastest mile of the race at mile 21. As I began to get closer to the city the headwind seemed to pick up. I kept on, through those last few miles that always hurt, watching the Citgo sign get closer and closer until I finally passed it, anxious and excited to cross the finish line. As I turned onto Hereford and then Boylston St. the cheers became louder, I knew I was close! My garmin had me at 26.4 miles already at this point and I could see the finish line! I held back emotion as I approached and crossed the line. 3:50:01, my 9th marathon, and 4th marathon in 6 months (eek!)

As I exited the finish area with my belongings, I pulled out my phone to call my husband, Bill. He should have arrived in the Grand Canyon by now. He was not with me at this race, a rarity. He was instead preparing to run the Rim2Rim2Rim in the Grand Canyon; which he did, yesterday. I told him about my race and the experience and promised to call later after I was warm and had eaten at the hotel. We hung up and I kept slowly walking down Boylston St., away from the finish line. At this point, it had been about 35 minutes since I crossed the finish line. There were other runners and spectators around me walking down the street when we heard a loud BOOM. Confused, I turned to look in the direction of the sound, straight down Boylston St., back towards the finish line. A cloud of smoke began to rise from the street. Thoughts, "what in the world?! did they shoot off a canon? that is what it sounded like. this is Boston and it is Patriots day, would that be what that was?! No, that smoke would blind the runners, that wouldn't be smart, oh no, I really hope that was not something really bad." I kept slowly walking in the direction of my hotel and came to the Boston Commons where earlier that day I had boarded the bus to Hopkinton, the start of the marathon. Within minutes sirens, police cars, ambulances, whizzed by, all headed in the direction of the race finish. "Oh No! NO! NO!" I thought. "How awful." Then the first text came, from my news savvy friend attending journalism school in NYC, "are you ok??!" - the first of hundreds to come that day. Hers was the one that caused insight to flood my mind, "if something bad happened she'd be one of the first to know, she's in the news world." I immediately called her, "are you ok?!" were her first words, "Yes," I said, "I saw it, I'm just up the street, WHAT WAS THAT?!" "There were two explosions at the finish line," she said, "the pictures are awful, I immediately thought of you!"

After the call I immediately began checking texts and Facebook  to my horror to find a post from Competitor Running stating "Major explosion at finish line of Boston Marathon. Stay tuned for breaking news." Uuuugh! My heart sank! I quickly shared the statement onto my wall with the preface that I was fine, I was up the street from the explosion when it happened, and I was safe. I tagged the friends I knew were at the race that I had not seen afterwards in hopes of finding out if they were alright as well. 

A jumbled and messy walk back to my hotel - thoughts all over the place:

Prayers as I walked, prayers in every thought. 
Sending and receiving messages, "Yes, I am ok." 
Messages coming in faster than I can respond, I don't want anyone to worry about me!
Receiving confirmation of friend after friend, and their families, who were safe and not harmed at the blast. Almost all accounted for. . . 
Mass text from my brother the fireman/paramedic to the whole family, "do we know if Rachel is OK??!!" - I quickly text back, but not before it freaks my mother out, who saw his text and wondered what must have happened.

Words on the street: The subway is shut down. Finish line on lockdown. People being rushed to the hospital. Lots injured, probably some dead. Race is shut down.
Advised to get inside and stay there. 
More sirens.
I reach a corner. I think I turn here, yes, this is the street.
I think I'm glad now that my hotel is so far from the finish line. I was disappointed at first to be so far.
Funny how things change.
OH MY, I am SO glad my family could not come! So glad friends that tried to work it out could not!
!! I need to contact Bill, yes we spoke after the race, but that was before the explosions. If he hears about this he needs to know I am ok, and not still there. Text to him and to his sister who had just inquired about my race (and had apparently not yet seen the news), "major explosion at the finish line. I am fine." I send. Bill calls, I tell him everything. He thought my text meant that I had GI issues at the finish and that was what I meant by explosion. My sister in law texted me back, "emotional explosion??!! congrats on finishing!!" no, that is not what I meant. . . I informed her.

I arrive back at my hotel and go up to my room, flip on the news, and began to understand what had happened. "This was an attack, someone did this to hurt and kill innocent people." I receive some voicemail, no calls coming through, I can't call out. Lines must be overloaded. Texting and social media still working. I text my friend, "please call the school and let them know I am ok, if the news spreads there about the bombs I don't want my kids to hear about it and worry about me, I am fine and safe!" Watching the news, watching the stories unfold, the miracles, the generosity and compassion of those closest to the attack. I feel peace and comfort knowing that God is over all, that He lives and loves us. That most people are good, and caring, and kind. Then why?! I already know the answer, but we always ask, don't we?! This life is our proving ground, where we will show the stuff we are made of. God has given us the freedom to choose our actions here on earth, and had told us we will answer for our choices at the last day. How else can we be held accountable for those choices if He intercedes to prevent terror and heartache? It's not a fun answer, but I do believe it is an answer. And ALL mankind will receive their just reward. ALL mankind.

Shower, get warm, get clean. Now I need to eat. If no one is supposed to leave their hotels, does that mean this hotel might run out of food?! I don't know, I guess it depends on how long this goes on and how bad this really is. I better get down there to eat.

Lobby full, bar and restaurant full. I find a seat with others I do not know in the bar, every seat is filled. I order a burger and fries, I am famished at this point.


 I don't really feel like talking to anyone, but I do. A nice woman who did not get to finish. She had cramps and diarrhea early on, stuff that never happens to her in a race. It delayed her race, she knew she'd have a horrid race, at the time she was mad, but pushed through. She was stopped abruptly within a mile of the finish, runners backed up, nowhere to go, they'd been stopped!? Word spread quickly. She realized that if she had a good race, she would have been there at the finish line just about the time the bombs went off, and so would her family and friends. Angels were watching over her, she said.  Now cramps and GI issues were seen as blessings. She had to walk an extra few miles to get around the lockdown area. People were coming out of their houses offering blankets, clothing, food, water, a place to rest, a place to stay the night if needed. Wow! And I thought the people of Boston made great fans! Yes, but they made great fans because they are GREAT people.


Later, back in my room, I pack my bags, I have an early flight out the next morning. If the flight is on time, I will now have to be there much earlier, "heightened security, arrive earlier than usual for flights."  I check my phone one last time, it's hard to break away, there are still messages from friends and loved ones wondering if I am ok. I have to sleep though, I am exhausted! And I have to get up at 4:30am to get to the airport on time. I send out one last post for the night, thanking many friends, family and loved ones for their care, concern and prayers. I try to fall asleep. Every noise makes me jump, "Is that another one?!" My hotel is directly across the street from the Boston Fire Department. A few times through the night I hear sirens, "oh goodness, I hope that is totally unrelated" I think.  

I wake in the morning and get to the airport. I only see runners, in the official clothing of the marathon, I am wearing it too. I am honored and proud to be a part of such an event. I am honored and proud to have been witness to the amazing spirit and depth of soul of the people of Boston.  I am honored and proud to be an American. I am honored and proud to be part of the human race. We are good, kind, compassionate, and loving people. There are the exceptions, there always will be. But as one said, directly to those exceptions, "The good outnumber you, and we always will."

I am honored and proud to be a part of that "good."  Because after all, this day, this experience is not about me, it is about all Americans, and particularly the people of Boston, Massachusetts. It is about all humankind; who collectively band together against terror and fear, who lift and help each other in times of unimaginable horror and distress, and  WHO ALWAYS WILL. I am ever grateful to be a part of that greater good, to be a part of something worthwhile that is much bigger than me.