When 9/11 happened, I watched the news from my 15th floor apartment in Cambridge, looking out over the Charles River to Boston.
Two months pregnant with my first child, I remember feeling vulnerable at being in another large American city, and wondering what kind of world I was bringing a child into.
Fast forward seven more months to April 2002. As my husband and I drove our newborn baby girl home from the hospital through the streets of Boston, we had to follow a detour back to our apartment because some sort of race was going on that day. I wasn’t a runner back then; I didn’t appreciate that that marathon was THE Boston Marathon.
Fast forward 11 years to April 2013. From the safety of Southern California I watched the news yesterday of the bombings in Boston, my heart breaking for the people there and for the community of runners everywhere. I’ve come a long way since 2002, and now I am a runner. I ran a marathon in 4:02 and I work toward the ambitious goal of 3:45 to qualify for Boston. I know how hard all those Boston marathon runners trained to get there. It saddens me to see the loss of the life, the injuries, the distress of all those affected. And yes, it saddens me to think that those who finished the race, and were not injured, had their race experience tainted by tragedy. It saddens me to think that some 5,742 runners did not get to finish the race.
So today I will wear a race shirt in honor of Boston.