OK, but Shaken, After the Boston Marathon

Let me begin my assuring everyone that I am fine, as are my friends. None of us was too near the explosions yesterday, and I feel very lucky. Ed and I traveled to Boston for a three-day weekend to visit Bostonian friends and watch our friend Eliot, who had flown in from Reno, run the marathon, and I'm thankful that all of us walked away unscathed.

Waiting for the competitors

Ed and I had a wonderful weekend catching up with friends and relaxing. We met Ethel, Eliot's girlfriend, in Kenmore Square at about 10:30 or so on Monday, just before the first wheelchair athletes started to come by. She'd staked out a great spot just before the 25-mile mark on a grassy median that allowed us a clear, unobstructed view of the course for about a quarter mile up the course. Ed and Ethel used the marathon tracker app to monitor Eliot's progress, and a guy behind us, who was listening to the race on headphones, kept updating us when anything notable happened. We made friends with Amit, a photographer and runner who was watching the race to our left, and a middle-aged couple from Virginia who'd come in to support their son. Everyone chatted with each other as we waited for the action to start. There were cops everywhere, patrolling the perimeters of the course and looking business-like, but a little giddy, too. I commented to Ethel that this must be a pretty fun day for them.

The first three men

Within ten minutes of our arrival, the first wheelchair athletes started to pass by. The crowd cheered enthusiastically as they trickled by - there weren't a lot of entrants in their category and so there were often several minutes between them. Then the professional women passed, the first with an impressive lead on the second and third place women, who ran together a good distance behind her. Twenty minutes later, the professional men whizzed by, the first three running in a tight, incredibly fast group. After that, things really started to pick up. We no longer had to wait for the next runner to appear - they were coming in a steady stream, all of them lean and quick and focused so late in the race. Some looked determined, some grinned at their reception by the crowds, and some waved their hands to encourage people to clap for them. Every now and then, a guy in camouflage fatigues and boots with a huge backpack would come plodding by, some walking and some jogging, and once there was a platoon of about 12 of them marching at a quick clip. The crowd cheered especially loudly for them. Ed and I had seen some military types patrolling the course earlier, but hadn't realized they'd be taking part, too.

Ed had noticed that Eliot had slowed pretty suddenly, according to the tracker app. He'd been holding 6-minute miles pretty consistently, but he'd added a full minute to his pace after a certain point. He finally passed us, running slowly (for him anyway) and looking grim. Eliot is a pretty experienced runner, and it seemed unlikely that he'd set a pace he couldn't hold. We figured something had gone wrong, but he was still running when we saw him, so, sorry but not too worried, we headed toward the finish area to meet him not long after he passed us.

About half a mile to go

Walking toward the finish area

Our walk along the last mile of the course was beautiful. Trees were blooming everywhere, and the throngs of people were festive. It was chilly, but families enjoyed the sun, with children playing about or adding last-minute touches to banners with markers in anticipation of mothers and fathers running by. Groups of drunk college kids laughed and rough-housed. Some people were barbecuing in front of apartment buildings. Young men wearing colorful bras over their t-shirts invited spectators to "stuff their cups" with dollar bills as a fund-raiser for a children's summer camp. We finally ended up at Newbury Street and wandered along, thwarted by barricades and thick crowds several times before finding the family meet-up area. Eliot, alas, was not waiting under his sign, which didn't surprise me too much, as the walk over had taken us quite a while. We saw on the tracker that he'd ended up finishing more than 15 minutes after he'd hoped to. The area was filled with grinning families and runners wrapped in reflective, disposable blankets. Some looked elated and some looked exhausted, but the mood was triumphant all around. The runners all wore medals and had damp clothes and hair. I stood guard, people-watching and waiting for Eliot, while Ethel wandered around for a while, but she didn't find him and soon Ed and I had to say our goodbyes and go pick up our luggage to go to the bus station. It was about 2:00.

We heard from Ethel about 20 minutes later. She'd found Eliot, and he had what seemed to be a stress fracture which had slowed him down, though, incredibly, not prevented him from finishing in 2:47. (It's difficult for me to imagine being disappointed by that time, but Eliot was.) By 3:00, Ed and I were at the station, standing in line to board our bus. Several runners and their significant others were in line with us, and this is where we first heard that something terrible had happened. Ed immediately dialed Ethel, then Eliot, but was unable to get through to either of them. Then he got a text from Ethel saying that something had exploded. I'm not sure where they were when it happened, but they were both OK. Meanwhile, I was frantically searching the New York Times, CNN, and Boston Globe websites. They loaded frustratingly slowly as thousands of other people jammed the cell signals, and didn't tell me anything I didn't already know when I finally did manage to access the articles. Ed and I began contacting everyone who knew we were in Boston to assure them we were OK, starting this process in the bus line and continuing for about half an hour after we boarded and had hit the road. We were limited to texting, as the phone lines were still overloaded. Luckily, we were well out of Boston before things got chaotic and our ride home was uneventful. People sitting around us fielded lots of calls and texts during the ride, but for once I wasn't annoyed.

The news coming in was horrifying, and I felt shaken looking at the images of the streets I'd walked less than two hours before. Ed and I are lucky that Eliot was fast, lucky that the bombs didn't detonate sooner, and lucky that our friends are unscathed. A day after the fact, I find it a bit difficult to concentrate and think I'll take it easy this evening. This event will not deter me from continuing to train for and run in marathons. But I will do so with greater mindfulness.