I Run for Boston

Today's Run for the Parks race was NYRR's first race since the Boston Marathon, and those of us registered for it received a flurry of emails in the days leading up to it. Many procedures would be different. Runners were encouraged not to bring baggage, and if they had to, they would need to put their things in clear plastic bags instead of backpacks or gym bags before checking them. Race day registration, usually at a tent not far from the starting line, would be in an enclosed field, and those going in would be subject to security screenings. There would be fewer port-a-potties along the course and no trash cans.

Normally, I show up at the race about 15 minutes before it's supposed to start, grab my number, and pin it on during my dash to the starting corrals. This time, though, I made the trek out to the NYRR office way over on the East Side yesterday to pick up Ed's and my numbers and t-shirts in advance. The race was supposed to start at 8:00 A.M. and I was not interested in showing up any earlier than necessary that morning to allow time for a pat-down. Because I tend to pick up my number and t-shirt at the last minute, I am usually stuck with larges, which go to Ed. At least, I figured, going early would get me a t-shirt I would be able to actually wear, even if the trip would be a pain. No such luck, however. NYRR had made a bunch of special blue t-shirts that read "I Run for Boston" in yellow letters. Anyone could buy one for $20, and all proceeds would go to a relief fund for runners and spectators injured in the bombings. By the time I arrived on Saturday, the shirts were long gone; apparently everyone was so desperate to get one that they showed up early to register, and they took all the small and medium race t-shirts with them while they were at it.

I picked up our numbers and large t-shirts (sigh) as well as two black ribbons and placards that read "I Run for Boston" that could be worn on our backs. As I walked back toward the subway station, I saw an ABC News crew interviewing a woman who'd just come out of NYRR. Apparently, running this race was news.

Central Park is beautiful in spring

Ed and I arrived at the starting corrals this morning to a sea of runners in the limited-edition blue t-shirts, Red Sox and Celtics gear, Boston Marathon swag from this year and years previous, and lots and lots of black ribbons and "I Run for Boston" placards. We observed a moment of silence before the race. The woman selected to sing the national anthem was from Hopkinton, Massachusetts, the starting point of the marathon. She broke down crying near the end of the song, but managed to finish it anyway to sympathetic applause. The gun went off and we made our way towards the starting line as "Sweet Caroline" played over the speakers. I noticed that the clock already seemed to have four minutes on it, which seemed wrong - the gun had gone off only a minute or two before. Then I took another look and realized that it was stopped at four hours and nine minutes, the time on the marathon's clock when the explosions went off. I found myself suddenly tearing up.

It was a beautiful day, if a little chilly, and I enjoyed the quick four-mile run through the park. I've never seen so many police officers patrolling a course before, and there were even NYPD TARU (Technical Assistance Response Unit) officers standing around in the finish area. There wasn't much excitement for them, I'm happy to report. Things went smoothly and peacefully, and everything seemed pretty normal, aside from the bizarre sight of runners clad in rival Boston gear, and people being just a little more courteous and supportive than usual. Perhaps it's naive of me to feel this way, but I hope that these extra safety measures won't be a part of every race. Security screenings and armed officers shift the focus of races from excitement and comradeship toward unpleasant reminders that sometimes people can do sad and terrible things.