Yesterday, I woke up in sheer excitement for Marathon Monday. The first thing I did when my eyes opened was to check Twitter for updates. I was sad not to be there; after all, I spent the past five or so years soaking up everything Marathon Monday had to offer either handing out Gatorade to finishers or placing motivational signage on the course.
I came into work and was frustrated to find that I couldn't watch any live streams in Canada. (I'm sure there was a way to do so, I just didn't figure it out in time.) I was cheering on Shalane (she really is as sweet as she looks) and was so excited (and bummed) for her with her fourth place finish. I tracked my friends who were running. And I kept wishing I could have been there.
And then I walked into my lunch room and looked at the TV. I saw the news of the explosions and immediately ran to my phone and texted and tweeted at Emily, my former colleague that always traveled to the race with me. I knew she (and the rest of the Gatorade team) were at the finish line and I was hoping they were OK. The hour that I sat in the lunch room watching the coverage and awaiting confirmation that my friends were OK was one of the longest of my life. It turns out the Gatorade team was 100 yards from the second blast but all were and are fine. And every friend that had ran the race (all had finished before the blasts) also checked in OK. Amen.
While that was a huge relief, I just couldn't pull myself away from streaming news coverage on the internet and Twitter. I felt like I should have been there. I still feel like I should be doing something to help. (BTW, did you see the Google document listing people who were offering to take stranded runners in? There are good people in this world. Let us not forget that.)
I wore my Boston shirt to spin last night to quietly pay homage to all of those that won't be able to exercise anytime soon. And to those that lost their lives in this tragedy. And to all of those that need a little faith in this time of disbelief and terror. We are all here to support you. We love you.
But in the meantime, I will pray. For all of those affected by this horrific event. For the city of Boston. And for the return of some faith in humanity. I will tell Shaun I love him a few extra times each day. I will squeeze the pups. I will seize the moment. And I will run more proudly. For Boston.