April 2013 – Boston Marathon bombing. Lives interrupted, race stopped, city on edge.
April 2014 – I am at the eight mile marker waiting for last year’s survivors: those with new limbs and those with impaired eyesight; the runners who were stopped before the finish last year; the elites. And then my son, Kevin, who is running Boston for the first time.
The tears are pungent as is the scent from grills where residents plan to spend the day. A cacophony of cheers, claps, cow bells . . . and footsteps.
I see Kevin in the crowd; he blows me a kiss. Then I head for public transportation and the finish line in downtown Boston, the MC’s raspy exhortation: “Take back the finish line” ringing in my ears.
And 35,000 runners did.
April 2024 – Ten years later.
Still coming to Boston. We are all ten years older, but the mystique remains. The bombing and taking back the finish line have receded but not completely. They probably never will. At one security checkpoint a woman said to me, “If you had been here the year of the bombing, you’d understand.” I said nothing, but because we were here the year after we understand completely.
For the record, a little under 30,000 runners finished this year. Kevin ran 3:14, which qualifies him to run Boston 2025.
We’ll be back.
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