It wasn't until I was asked to write a piece for a journal from my hometown that I sat down to write my story. As I grabbed my laptop to get started I thought for a second where to begin... and then I cried. It was all so surreal. Donny and I had friends at the finish who were seriously injured. My friend's dad had tied tourniquets where the second bomb went off. I had sneaked through police lines to try to find out if my family was alive... the instant pain in my gut returned recalling the thought that I may have lost my son, husband, brother, mother, and/or father.
It was at this point that I realized that I, too, had a story.
I will not go as far as to say that my story is anything special, it's not - 5,700 other runners did not finish, thousands of spectators were forced to witness bomb trucks speeding down the usually jovial marathon course, hundreds of people sustained physical injuries, and 4 people died.
No, my story is NOT special, but, in combination with the thousands of other similar stories, our collective story is special. It is a story of resilience and camaraderie. I'm hesitant to say that Boston is back... we never left. However, we are stronger and it has become quite clear that Boston is no longer defined by city lines. This year on Patriot's Day, people from all over the world will be watching Boston and we will be running... BostonStrong (and some of us will be wearing the most glorious tutus that have ever made their way from Hopkinton to Boston).
|The morning of April 15th, 2013. I couldn't have|
been more excited to run the Boston Marathon in my tutu.
|The city of Boston will be giving all|
Dana-Farber runners a metaphorical hug
this year for all 26.2 miles.