Boston

I have been meaning to write about the horrific current events going on in our country lately but I have been too sick all week to put my thoughts to pen.

On Monday, April 15^th, runners from all over the world came to run the famous Boston Marathon.  Around 3pm in the afternoon two explosions ripped through the spectator crowds killing 3 people and severely maiming countless others.  Although I do not know for sure, rumor has it that 20-25 people required surgical amputations of their limbs from rigged pressure cooker bombs filled with nails, gunpowder and ball bearings.  Over 180 people were injured.  Sadly, among the casualties were an 8 year old boy, and two female college students. 

Rather than rehash the events that have transpired since then and delve into the massive manhunt that spanned the country, I want to share how this terrorist attack affected me. 

While investigators pieced together countless images and surveillance videos of the crowd for possible suspects I cried.  I called my friend to make sure he wasn’t running.  I searched facebook for other running friends that I was hoping had not participated in the race.  I cried Tuesday and Wednesday, and eventually that sadness turned into rage.  When the explosions occurred during the marathon it was around the 4:09 minute mark, about the time that I would have been finishing the race, had I ran.  How could this happen? 

I have been a soccer player all my life.  After college, I developed a passion for running.  While I am by no means an amazing runner, I love to run and have become pretty decent at it.  I also found that the running community in Staten Island has some of the nicest, most passionate people around.  I cannot explain the general good feeling that you experience when participating in a race.  Whether you are participating in a big NYRR event or a smaller Saturday morning Fun Run the runners are always happy, fun, and jovial people.  You high five strangers and compliment winners you do not even know.  You seek to better yourself regardless of who else is running beside you.  Not to sound too corny, but the running community really is like a family.  To think that people would try to crush that very close bonding atmosphere that a race creates between people is, to me, destroying runnings’ innocence.  Never again will I run without a small seed of fear in the back of my mind.  Indeed, my last carefree run ever was Thursday, April 11^th when I ran in Clove Lakes Park.  I will never feel entirely comfortable with inviting my friends and family to come see me run.  This has birthed a sad realization in me that was not there before. 

I know you could walk out of your house and get hit by a plane.  The chances again of this happening at a race are slim to none.  However that irresistible seed of doubt will always be in every runner’s mind.  Never again will bag check be simple and easy.  We will see the ramifications of this tragedy with tighter security in the crowds, with bomb sniffing dogs surveying the streets.  You will see a look of apprehension exchanged between families at the sight of a lone, hooded spectator at the guardrails. 

It is Friday, April 19^th.  I have just heard that police have apprehended one of the two alleged terrorists.  He is 19 years old. The city of Boston has been shut down for hours; millions of dollars have been spent on diverting countless intelligence resources to the area to search for him.

I am absolutely elated to hear that this may all possibly be over.  To ruin the sacredness of a sport that defines the Olympics today is heart wrenching.  To think that there are countless family members and runners that will never experience a simple run the same way again because they lost one or both of their legs is reprehensible.  It’s like taking water from a fish.

I wonder how this will affect races in the future.  Will the mood be more somber?  Will people be more cautious? Will people be less trusting to share a simple high five with a stranger?  It is important for us not to let this tragedy negatively affect the spirit of running, but rather, strengthen it.        

My prayers go out to all the heroes that April 15^th created.  All the first responders and physicans assistants, nurses, doctors, police, firefighters and EMTs who rushed towards the explosions instead of away.  To all the runners who after finishing this grueling self revelatory race that ran afterwards to give blood or lend a helping hand.  To the man in the cowboy hat that lost both his sons years ago, one to war and the other to suicide, that pinched a spectator’s leg artery shut and wheeled him to an ambulance, saving his life.  And to the victims wounded and the innocents killed, my heart breaks for you.  I want my children to be able to read this someday and empathize with what happened before it’s read in black and white in a history book.  Because you can learn about an event, but not truly feel it.    

Tomorrow I plan on going on my first run since this tragedy occurred, (and the first since I have been sick).  This type of cowardly terrorism should not change your passions in life, even if they make you a bit more cautious with them.  I wish I could run as if April 15^th never happened, but unfortunately that innocence is lost forever.  But my silver lining is that because of this tragedy I have chosen to run in my first ever marathon at the end of September in New Hampshire.         

The only solace I can take from this event is that even though there may be evil in this world, the good outnumber the bad.  Where there is darkness there will always be light, and where there are victims there will always be heroes, and if you choose the wrong side in life, we will find you.