Yesterday I was in flight prepared to write-up all my posts for this week. Spent an awesome weekend with family, saw friends and had a great time. I finished off my weekend as a spectator at the 117th Boston Marathon with my sister and parents. I have a special place in my heart for the Boston Marathon, and I always will. We watched from Natick at mile 10, before heading into the airport to catch my flight to Denver. Spoke with Al before getting on the plane, I was a tad delayed, but not enough to be annoyed by it. We reached 10,000 feet and I turned on my laptop to get some work done.
Within seconds I had 7 people gchatting me, multiple emails – all with terrible, frightening subject lines and 50+ Facebook related messages and emails from co-workers. I turned my phone on and I had 14 text messages all from different people.
It took everything I had to mask the tears that wanted to stream down my face. I felt pain for all of those affected by the horrific actions of a sick person. And for the loved ones that were unsure where their runners or spectators were. And I felt so much sadness for those runners. The excitement, the anticipation and the accomplishment was harshly stripped from so many of them.
It’s sad to think that after 117 years of running this beautiful route, breaking world records, making history, and having the best spectators in the world, the Boston Marathon will never be the same.
I’m so tired of the hatred, but I know it will never end. We can wish and hope and pray, but realistically it will always be there. It makes me more and more angry with each occurrence of events, such as this, that takes place. Stripping everyone of the joy, the history and the tradition of the Boston Marathon this time around.
I have to constantly remind myself how there are more good people than bad, and I’ll forever hold the first image I saw of yesterday’s sad event. A photo of a runner knocked to the ground from the blast, loads of runners still coming behind and three cops in action, guns pulled, ready to protect. It warmed my heart and I hope that some, in that moment felt a sense of safety and security. Because one thing is certain, I’m drained and sad of feeling frightened and on alert everywhere I go. I know we can’t live in fear, but I’m finding it harder and harder to talk myself out of it.
I let out a big sigh as we began to descend to DIA. I found myself incredibly thankful for technology yesterday as I could communicate with everyone in flight. I was able to update folks around me on the plane, all of which had no clue what was occurring in Beantown and were instantly panicked upon finding out. I was able to email and confirm safety of loved ones for a flight attended on board and a passenger behind me. In that moment there were a handful of folks, myself included, who were thankful for community and the act of helping, not hurting one another. And I’m so thankful for all of you, friends and family from near and far, who reached out immediately to see if my family was safe. I love the sense of community whether it’s your best friend or someone you haven’t seen in 10 years. That’s what we need to hold in our hearts.
So today, I proudly wear my home state t-shirt as I settle back in to the routine in CO. I wear it because I’m proud, I wear it because I’m sad, I wear it for the victims, the runners, the loved ones affected and for Bostonian’s everywhere. I wear it to represent the city that I’m so proud to be from and to show that we folk from Beantown, we stick together.