Written on April 25, 2013:
10 days later and I still don’t know exactly how to process the events that unfolded at the finish line of the 117th Boston Marathon on April 15. I don’t know if I’ve fully grieved for my city yet. I had 2 days of shock, some moments of almost breaking down on a city bus, lots of emotion at an otherwise unrelated work event, and sobbing while watching videos of National Anthems from various sporting events. The montage at the Bruins game was probably the thing that hit me the hardest. The musical soundtrack was Phillip Phillips’ “Home”. (I thought it was Mumford, which shows you how “hip” and “with it” I am.)
Hold on to me as we go,
As we roll down this unfamiliar road.
And although this wait is stringing us along,
Just know you’re not alone,
I’m gonna make this place your home.
Settle down, it’ll all be clear.
Don’t pay no mind to the demons, they fill you with fear.
The trouble, it might drag you down,
If you get lost, you can always be found.
Just know you’re not alone,
‘cause i’m gonna make this place your home.
Boston has always been a special place for marathoners. If you’ve “run Boston”, then you are something. If you qualify for Boston, that’s HUGE. Marathon Monday is the biggest homegrown event, and a lot of people’s favorite day of the year. I’ve lived in Boston for almost 9 years now and I’ve never had the privilege of actually watching the Marathon live. I’ve always had to work, as it’s a “holiday”, and people always seemed to request it off. Sure, I read about it in the news, but never truly SAW it. This year was a bit different. I had a much better window into the event now that I’m working on tourism on a full-time basis. We were able to meet a lot of runners and their families and on Sunday, I went down to the Hynes Convention Center to collect our booth from the Runner’s Expo. (I had wanted nothing more than to be our representative at the Expo, but scheduling didn’t allow it to be me.) I sat in the car, making sure we didn’t get towed, and saw a sea of blue and yellow Marathon jackets. The energy in the air was palpable. People were so happy and so excited. We drove down the street, coming upon the finish line, and I was imagining how you must feel when you get to that point. I, myself, have never made it more than a 10K, and so far, that’s a great goal for me. I am a finish line crier. I am always overwhelmed by emotion at that point. I can only imagine the intense feelings that one feels finishing Boston.
About 1/3 of the field was not able to finish. And after 10 days, the toll of injuries has risen to 264 people. 3 people lost their lives on Marathon Monday, and a brave cop was shot in his car at MIT. The magnitude of this day is hard to comprehend. It’s still almost unbelievable to think that it happened about 2 miles from my place of business, places that I go to on a semi-regular basis. The Boston Public Library has been closed for 10 days. I have 3 books sitting in my apartment...wondering when I should take them back. I want to visit the memorial. I am also afraid of the emotions that might come.
Like many people, this transported me back to 9/11. I was 22 years old, at IUP, and seemingly, worlds away from any danger. I didn’t understand that day. I didn’t know what to feel. People around me cried a lot. I was glued to the news, hoping it would give us answers. I think it gave me more questions than answers. I felt like the danger of that day wouldn’t....COULDN’T touch me. I was in Western PA, in the middle of nowhere. I was confused when my family was calling my house, wondering if I was okay, after the plane went down somewhere in PA. My Western PA geography wasn’t that great, so I wasn’t sure where that was. All I knew was that I was fine and I didn’t know why people were reacting like this. I didn’t “get it”.
And now, 12 years later...I get it. Unfortunately, I get it. I’ll never understand why these things happen, or what turns people into a radicalized version of themselves, or why religion would cause anyone to do harm to others. But, I do understand how this shatters a sense of safety that we had built up in the years following 9/11. You never think it can happen “here”. You never think that you’ll be impacted by something like this. I was lucky that I had decided to stay home that day. I had considered going down to watch. More than likely, I would’ve gone to Brookline, as the crowds are thinner and the drunk college kids don’t seem to be around there, but I could’ve gone to the finish line. A friend of mine was there. He was waiting to photograph a friend who was running her first marathon. He invited me to go with him. I stayed home, and he happened to be in a different spot. But a lot of “what ifs” occur from that day...
At least 3 people weren’t so lucky.
But this day showed that in SOME ways we were very lucky. The right people were around. So many people were saved by the heroism that showed itself in ordinary citizens. I am humbled to say that these people are MY people.
I may not have been born here, but Boston, you’re my home.
Continued on April 29, 2013:
There was a time in my life, for a few short years, that I took great pride in my health and my efforts to be the best “me”. I don’t know where that “me” has gone. I should be happy with my life. I finally have a job that I love, I married my best friend, and yet, I keep making excuses because I don’t want to fight for the good things. I allow my life to slip away, day after day, and just talk about it. I don’t know where my motivation went. I don’t know why I can’t find it again. Everyday, I have a long conversation with myself about how I can do this. I’ve done it before, and I shouldn’t have stopped in the first place. I let laziness in and we all know that it can be a killer.
I get dressed on a daily basis and feel unhappy. I lumber through life again, instead of having a spring in my step. I feel tired and sloth-like, at best. I choose “easy”. I choose disgusting, packaged “food”, instead of filling my body with good things. I choose television and internet over ANYTHING even remotely physical.
I want to sing. I want to dance. I want to run. I want to do so many things, and yet, can’t quite make those thoughts connect to my body.
The Boston Marathon is a day to celebrate life and the great achievement of running 26.2 miles. I don’t know if I’ll ever step up to that line, but I do know that I have to find a way to make my life worth living again. I need to feel GOOD again. We all need to heal. Maybe my best chance at healing everything is to toe the line. To take a step. And another. And another.
