Boston Marathon bombings
This is not a word I wanted after Boston Marathon . . .
For those of us who grew up on or near the marathon route Boston
Marathon has meant many things and been followed by many words but never this
Boston Marathon jackets . . .
My church was at the starting line and as a youth group one
of our best, and most fun, fundraisers was selling soda and snacks to the
thousands who gathered to send the runners on their way. For some reason we really admired the
windbreakers all the marathon workers got every year. They varied in color and style but each year
we would spend part of our time plotting how to get one. Looking back I really can’t say why. They sort of looked like the kind of jacket
an 80 year old man or a perp on SVU would pair with matching pants before
stepping out on the town. I think it was
because you couldn’t buy them – they were bestowed. Sometimes we’d ask workers setting up the
barricades or directing traffic if they would give them to us after the race
sometimes we’d troll the discarded clothes after the start hoping one got
dumped. I don’t think any of us ever
ended up with one.
Boston Marathon runners . . .
These people are just a little crazy. As a non-marathoner I think anyone who decides
to run such a long distance when time and technology have made this unnecessary
is crazy. But Boston marathoners seem to
have a special helping of lunacy. It
must be hard to train for this race if you live in New England because up until
and sometimes on Marathon Day it’s still like 4 degrees. Spring doesn’t tend to come to us until mid
April. So in addition to weather
hampering training you also never know what you’re going to get on race
day. It could be 80 degrees or it could
be zero. The runners adopt the classic
New England mantra – layers!
Boston Marathon Day . . .
Since the world really begins and ends here we tend to just
call this Marathon Day. The Sox play an
early game, the Redcoats attack at Lexington and Concord and the kid’s school
vacation week begins. It holds the
promise of spring, a sort unofficial start where we all cautiously begin to
stow away our winter gear and perhaps, quietly, count on the weather to get
warmer and not colder from now on. It’s
a special day. It’s our day. A day
filled with memories of how we spent it as kids, or when our kids were kids or
last year when we did this or went there.
It’s a day you remember what happened and not because your world was
shattered by hateful insanity but because it’s a day where we all are looking
at something together, sharing something, watching something. As much as is possible in hard-nosed,
individualistic, eyes down New England we come together.
Boston Marathon Coverage . . .
Starting ridiculously early you can tune in to any one of
the three main local stations for all things marathon. They report from the starting line, the
finish and all places in between. They
have feel good stories on the runners, up to the minute weather conditions and
tales of marathon’s past. It seems a
little strange to have live and continuous coverage at some point because it’s
like oh look here’s a really skinny guy running down the street, oh and there’s
a pack of three women running together, yup still running and we’ll cut away to
commercial and then some talking and let’s get back to it – still running . . . but somehow it’s fun and if you happen
to be home that day you tune in or in your car you check with BZ to see what’s
what. We can all stay plugged in to it
all day long. It’s our race.
And whoever planted these bombs took that from us. We can say they didn’t. We can rail and rally urging ourselves and
others not to let them take it. Not to let
them change us. But the truth is we
can’t change those horrible moments four hours in to the 2013 Boston Marathon. The images of smoke, terror, fear, blood,
confusion and pain will stay with us.
But what the terrorists
never understand, what these people never count on is what those images, those events
do to us. They make us afraid, they
cause us grief and pain, but then they do something else. They bring out the best in people. The EMTs, doctors, nurses, police who ran in
to help while people fled in terror. The
friends and family who carried one another out of harm’s way. The stranger’s who helped each other contact
loved ones. Some stories we’ve
heard. More will come out in the days to
come. In the aftermath we see the solidarity
of our nation – We are Boston. The
moment of silence before every sporting event to remember the victims, to
remember the day. The crying, hugging
and cheering for our National Anthems at baseball fields, hockey rinks and
basketball courts across the country.
The post in the Chicago Tribune, the display by the now not so hated
Yankees, and on and on . . .
It’s not trite, or
false or contrived. Tragedy, senseless, inexplicable,
undeserved, really does bring us together.
It’s like this act of senseless inhumanity reminded us of the humanity
we have in common. All of our political,
religious, geographic , cultural and other differences seem to fade in these
moments. We are Boston, We are America,
We are Humanity.
My hope and prayer is that in the days to come we will remember
not only to keep supporting the victims, but also to keep honoring the common
humanity that such tragedies inevitably awaken in us. We cannot stop the word bombings from coming
to mind when we hear Boston Marathon anymore than we can fail to feel the
weight of the numbers 911, but we can decide what we do from here and the terrorists do
not get a say in that.
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