Boston

They say grief comes in phases and disbelief can last a long time.  Right now, I'm still very far from accepting what happened on Monday.  It feels a little like a dream and even more like a movie I am watching, but instead it is my life, this is real.

My super fast running husband got to run the Boston Marathon this year due to a very unfortunate turn of events in our family.  Amidst all we have going on this month (injuries, weddings, renovating a house, moving), I was excited to cheer him on for this bucket list race.

Finish line picture, 18 hours till marathon time

If you're not a runner than maybe you can't fully understand what The Boston Marathon symbolizes.  It's the race of all races, the Daytona 500 of running, the Super Bowl if you will, the race that anyone who has ever laced up their shoes and set out with a long- distance running goal has aimed for.  Qualifying is no easy feat, but finishing with all those hills is even harder.  This was B's 4th Marathon.  I am thankful that it won't be his last but neither of us will ever view running or marathons the same way again.

Blissfully excited for the 26.2 miles that were to come

We arrived on Sunday and hit up the expo of all expos (B's favorite!).  We ate a wonderful lunch on Boylston and rested the rest of the afternoon at the hotel.  For dinner we went down to the waterfront to meet Ellie, Katie, and Chris for dinner before turning in early so our runners could get some rest before the big race.

all in for boston

It started as a perfect day, for both the spectators and the runners.  The sun was shining, the weather was the perfect temperature, and with my two friends Katie and Ellie I set myself up at the finish line with our lawn chairs to watch Katie's husband Chris and B complete their 26.2 mile race.

Waiting for the race to begin 

We took turns making runs to Starbucks and Dunkin, chatted up the other spectators in chairs next to and behind us, and laughed with the young Boston PD who was stationed right in front of us on the street.  We sat on Boylston St between Ring Rd and Exeter St, with Lord and Taylor in front of us and Max Brenner behind us.  I explicitly remember thinking to myself, "wow there are so many Boston PD out here (and there were tons of bikes, motorcycles, and on foot), I feel really safe."

The race didn't start till after 10 am, and we were in our spots at an early 8:15am.  By 11 or so we saw the first athletes come through.  The wheel chair athletes, they were amazing.  Quickly followed by the women's winner from Kenya and the men's winner from Ethiopia.

First finisher, wheelchair athlete

First finisher, elite women 

First finisher, elite men 

Not long after we cheered loud and proud as Chris passed us and got his coveted Boston Marathon medal.  Within the hour, B crossed with us screaming and cheering him along- he even stopped to give me a big kiss and hug before crossing the finish! There was a moment after the blast that I feared that sweet moment may never happen again for us.  

Chris, in the white shirt

B, in the red shirt on the left 

From there, God was clearly ordaining our path, guiding our decisions, and keeping us safe.  We made so many choices that make me say "what if" now.  Thankfully, we moved from our spot to go meet B closer to the T station on Arlington.  I said farewell to Ellie, Katie, and Chris and assured them I would be able to find B easily and that they should go meet up with their little ones.

Chris & Katie, moments before the blast 

Confused I snapped a picture of the smoke cloud as I waited to snap a picture of B walking from the buses

Within moments I heard, felt, and saw a scene I cannot get out of my mind.  I was a block from the explosion.  The police officer standing near me looked at me and I knew.  His walkie started screaming to him and he took off running toward the blast.  I tried not to, but I did, I panicked.  I tried calling, texting, nothing.  I couldn't reach B.  What probably lasted for 20 minutes of searching and running through people, dodging ambulances and fire trucks felt like hours.  I found B and we quickly took what would be be the only picture of us together at the Marathon once he was finished.

So proud of him! 

At this point we knew more about what was happening than our families back home.  Our phones weren't getting through consistently but my sister got through and told us to get out of Boston.  I dragged my poor runner another 3 miles by foot out of the city, as far from Copley Square as we could get to, and back to our hotel.  To see us fleeing the city and ambulances, policemen, and fire trucks racing through the streets to help the injured was like a movie.  We didn't know if there would be more explosions or not, thank the Lord there weren't any more.

For the rest of the night we sat glued to our tv, watching the coverage, checking in with our friends in Boston, and trying to let everyone at home know we were physically alright.  I don't know how "okay" you can ever be after this, but we are trying.  We want to celebrate B's awesome accomplishment but it just doesn't seem right, it doesn't seem fair.  This experience will be one of the defining moments in my life.  The sights and sounds are ingrained in my memory, forever.  I know we both want to return to Boston some day, maybe to run, maybe just to be there together, either way I will sport my Boston Marathon jacket proudly from Virginia and try to process and pray through all of my emotions and for all those not as lucky as we are.

And when we lace up for our next marathon, The Marine Corps here in DC come October, I can already tell I will be a mess of mixed emotions.

<3 Boston

From Ellie's perspective Tommy and Ellie