Four Friends, Four Perspectives on Marathon Monday 2013

I was one of thousands who ran the Boston Marathon Monday.  Below I share my experience with you and asked 3 friends to do the same. Our thoughts and prayers are with the victims, the families, the first responders, the medical community and all of those affected by this horrific event.

 ~Joy Fay~

Monday started off as an absolutely perfect day. I was running my 13^th consecutive Boston.  I don’t think I’d ever felt better running a marathon.  My pace was great.  The weather couldn't have been better.  Even Jack Fultz (marathon champ and the Dana-Farber coach) sent us off with, "It doesn't get better than this!!"  It was supposed to be a beautiful, joyful day.

I think I had just passed BC when the first bomb went off.  Soon there after I began receiving text messages and phone calls from friends telling me about the explosions and checking to see that I was ok.  My last post on facebook had been at mile 20.  I had been posting photos and videos from along the course. No one was telling us anything so I just kept going but was rattled.  I am so grateful my friend Linda was with me.  She had jumped in with me around 21 and soon there after, my cel phone battery ran out.  I was able to use Linda’s phone to call my Mom to tell her I was OK...thankfully she hadn't seen the news yet.  The spectators continued to cheer us on clearly unaware of what had happened at the finish line.  Quickly word travelled among runners on the route.  Runners were crying and panic stricken.  Ambulances were going by us in the opposite direction on Boylston.

The police still weren't saying anything and didn't stop us 'til mile 25.  Cel phone service was shut down for fear of another bomb being triggered remotely but we didn't know this and were struggling to get a signal.  I have never ever seen anything like it...armed guards, military vehicles everywhere.  It was chaotic but also somber ..can't really describe it...surreal. Linda and I headed down Mass Ave and found our hotel where our friend Stacey was.  Stacey had just crossed the finish line when the first bomb went off.  I had several other friends that also saw or heard the explosions but thank God were not hurt. We drove home to Melrose early Tuesday morning. 

I have experienced every possible emotion these last few days and I know I am not alone.  I have felt intensely sad, angry, hateful, grateful..you name it.  A marathon alone breaks one down so emotionally and physically that the fragility that ensues compounded with this gut- wrenching event is too much to bear. ….But I will move forward, I will be strong and I will without a doubt run again in 2014. This will not stop me from living my life to the fullest.  In fact it has reminded me what is really important.

My hope is that we will all come together in paying tribute to those lost, those injured, those who witnessed the tradgedy, first responders, families, the medical community..all of those affected… by being kind to ourselves and kind to one another in the coming days and beyond.

~Stacey Suntken~

I woke up today wishing the tragic events of yesterday were just a bad dream. But when I stepped out of bed and did the cowboy shuffle across the room, I knew it wasn't just a bad dream. I had in fact successfully completed my 6th Boston Marathon - but there was no glory is finishing yesterday, instead I have a heavy heart. You see the bombs went off shortly after I finished. I saw the mushroom cloud fill the air, I smelled the smoke and I felt the earth tremble. I saw the last wave of finishers coming into recovery area shell-shocked. I knew in my heart something terrible had just happened. Did the finish line collapse? Was that a cannon? What was that sound? It was the unthinkable, the unimaginable.... We had been attacked, people were hurt. I remain overcome with emotions. What struck me the most today was when my 9 year-old daughter asked me if I was scared when I heard the bombs go off. Why are we living in a world where I need to have this conversation? Was I scared? Shit yeah. But now I'm just plan pissed. A senseless, cowardly act. I will not live in fear. I will run. Although I claimed this would be my last Boston, I take it back. I will run it again. I will run to show my daughters, I am not afraid. I will run to give back to my community. I will run for those we lost. I will run for those you can't. I will run until my body tells me I just can’t do it anymore. I am Boston tough. Boston strong. No one can take that from me! I will run Boston again in 2014 and beyond. And for anyone who wants to join me, I will help you train. Continue to pray for those who have lost. And stay Boston strong. Better days ahead.

~Linda Sheehan~

Like so many others in the Boston area, I was looking forward to this week with great anticipation!  School vacation, the possibility of some sunny, mild weather after a long dreary winter, time spent with family and friends, my 45th birthday, and of course, the iconic Boston Marathon.  Unlike many other years, I was going to be something other than a spectator at this much loved event, though still falling short of being a marathoner -- I was joining my dear friend at mile 20 for those last difficult miles leading up to the finish line.  It was still going to be quite a milestone for me.  A year ago I would have questioned whether I could make it those last 6 miles.  But on this Marathon Monday, after months of running greater and greater distances with the encouragement of my friend, I woke up happy, excited, a bit nervous, and so proud to be participating in this amazing event and to be running alongside her.  The Boston Marathon is one of those things that Bostonians hold dear. People come from the world over to be part of it, but we consider it our own - one of those rare things that cannot be duplicated anywhere else.  Part of me felt guilty that I would get to experience the thrill and honor of crossing the finish line without having completed the entire course.  But that feeling melted away as soon as we got on our way.  The spectators smiling and encouraging, the feeling of being part of something so rare and so special - it was overwhelming! Two beautiful miles passed before we started to get word that something had gone wrong.  Confusion, disbelief, concern for our other friends on the course and those waiting for us.  What should we do?  Where should we go?  Frantically trying to get information and reaching out to family and friends to make sure they were ok and to assure them that we were ok.  The realization that we would not finish this journey together.  From the highest high to the lowest low in an instant.  

The devastation is mind-numbing.  The thought that it could have been any one of us is devastating.  What if that wave good-bye I gave to my husband and children at mile 20 was truly my last wave good-bye?  Like so many others, I have found myself unable to break free of the overwhelming sadness.   The things that once seemed so important now seem so trivial.  A week long roller coaster ride has finally ended with the capture of a suspect.  There is some relief in this, but regardless, we are forever changed.  Some part of us will always feel more vulnerable.  We will feel the need to hold our children just a little bit tighter.  I know that we will find our way, that we will go on stronger than we were before, but I don't yet know how. Yes, we will go on.  We will keep running.  We must.  And somewhere deep in my heart, we crossed that finish line together with love, solidarity and great joy.

 ~Manjula Karamcheti~

I had never been a runner, but that had never stopped me from enjoying the pomp and reverie surrounding the Boston Marathon. Years past, I would celebrate on Boylston Street even though I rarely knew anyone making the trek from Hopkinton.

This year was different.  This year I actually had friends running the Boston Marathon. This year I joined Melrose Boot Camp, started running, attended a variety of Marathon fundraisers for Dana Farber and Children’s Hospital and even accompanied marathoners-to-be on pre-dawn training runs.  This year, my regular trip took on added meaning: to celebrate the accomplishments of my friends.

Anticipating the crowds during the Marathon, and the celebrations that would assuredly follow, I had left my 5 and 7 year-olds with my husband and traveled to Boston alone. It was a pristine day and I happily walked through the Common and Public Garden, congratulating and high-fiving runners who had finished their 26.2 miles.

I had been receiving text alerts about my friends’ progress and knew that my friends would be crossing the finish line soon.  I planned to be at the finish line when they crossed, but as I came to the corner of Boylston and Berkeley, I was met with barricades. To reach the finish line, I needed to walk over to Newbury, up a block and cross back over. As I contemplated the merits of staying where I was or moving forward, I got an alert that my friend Stacey had just completed her sixth Boston Marathon.  I decided to stay put. All of the runners had to come my way to get to the buses and to their bags.  I would see her, she would see me, we would high five and wait for the rest of our friends to cross the finish line. But that moment never happened.

At around 2:50pm, I heard a boom.  Seconds later I heard another. I turned to the woman next to me and said, “That didn’t sound good. Should we be concerned?”  But we agreed that it was Patriots Day, and that cannon were just a part of the celebration.

When I saw smoke, I was confused. Runners were still running and fans were still cheering.  Then six police officers ran past me and frantically started to remove the barricade I was standing behind. The barricades were tied. The officers couldn’t get through, and started climb over. I stood there, in shock, and started to help boost them past the barricades. I watched them run toward the finish line, when another officer came running towards me, screaming at me to run. I ran.

I ran to the Public Gardens. I don’t think I have ever been more scared. I called my husband to tell him I was fine, but our conversation was cut off a minute in. I texted my friends to find out where they were on the marathon route.  Stacey was at the hotel.  Matt was in Kenmore Square. Joy and Linda were in Cleveland Circle. I didn’t hear from Courtney, but soon got word from another friend that she was safe too. 

While I was checking on my friends, other friends were checking on me via phone, text and facebook, where I had earlier posted about my plans to be at the finish line. And all the while, I was still running.  Running home to Melrose, to my neighborhood, to my friends and family.

I did not make it to the finish line this Patriots Day, but out of respect, love and sincere appreciation for all those who did (and did not), I will make it next year. I am a runner now.