A Few Words About Boston
I lived in Boston for a while. During my time there I ran around town, participated in races and even stood near the Finish Line at the Boston Marathon. I still have friends there. So it was more than a little disturbing when I found out about the bombings.
I wasn’t in Boston. I was in the Cubicle Farm, and I had just come back from a meeting. My phone had been lighting up while I was away, and my work email had a question from someone looking for more details some explosions at the marathon. Then I checked the news. Holy crap.
The phone messages and texts were from friends and family who know that I’m into running. Many of them don’t quite understand the sport, so they thought I might be running. (I’m nowhere near fast enough.) Others knew that I had been a spectator before and lived close enough to be one again. Either way, they were checking up on me. It was nice.
I guess I should have responded right then, but first I sent an email to a friend who was actually running the race. She had a baby in January, so I knew that she would be slower than in previous years. She would be finishing at about the worst time possible. Also, I was sure that her husband would be there waiting for her with their daughter. Just like everyone else, I was worried.
But she responded quickly, assuring me that they were okay. She had finished about 20 minutes before the blasts, and was in the meeting area with her family. When they heard things go off, they left while they could. So that was a bit of good news. For my part, I replied to a few people and responded to some Facebook and Google+ messages. Then I posted an “I’m okay, I wasn’t there” message to Facebook to calm down everyone else.
It was a stressful time, and I was more than a little upset. There’s something sacred about races and marathons. They make our lives better. How could someone violate that?
When I got home I went for a hard 5K run to blow off steam, and then my wife and I went out for a beer. We were lucky, I suppose. We know that our friends are okay, and our families know that we weren’t there. But there are some folks who don’t have that luxury. There are some folks who got bad news yesterday, and they’ll need more than just a Facebook post to make them feel better.