Boston, my heart.

I’m waiting for a flight back to Chicago now and just want to take a moment say thank you to everyone for your check-ins yesterday. I was and still am deeply moved by how actively, and how many concerned people there were.

I’ve had many conflicting, confusing, intense, and unpredictable, even irrational emotions and strands of thought over the past 24 hrs. Which actually fairly accurately follows the typical emotional trend I’ve experienced while running each and every marathon so far.

Normally by now I’d have my splits for every mile memorized and compared them with where I was on the course, what was going on around me, and how I was feeling. At this point I have seen my 5k splits from the web, but haven’t looked at my garmin data. I just feel sad, defenseless, and have no idea how I’ll feel in another five minutes.

I tend to operate in defense mode when it comes to running. A great many of the positive aspects of my life either have come directly from running or have been made better because of its wide reaching effects.

So whenever people criticize, trivialize, minimize, or underestimate what this sport is, I get hot-headed.

In this situation I feel only disbelief. And heartache.

I just can’t wait to be home.

I walked around the back bay for about and hour this morning. It was a military zone, and until about 9:30am, a ghost-town. I had my Marathon jacket on and three different local residents approached me and asked if I was ok and had everything I needed. I walked and chatted with one women, about the same age as my own parents for a few blocks. We were both teary eyed.

As I made my way through an ID checkpoint to go back to my hotel, it really looked like a movie scene, all the uniforms and guns. People were taking pictures everywhere. That felt wrong to me. But yet I can’t tear myself away from the news casts and articles.

I bought a copy of the Boston Globe, but didn’t read it. I’ll put it in my training log with my bib. A motivator for tough days during training next winter.

In the moments between the sadness and frustration I’m feeling overwhelmed with love for this sport, the people it inspires, and the community it engenders.

My body is going back to Chicago, but my heart will remain in Boston.


6 responses to “Boston, my heart.

  1. Hope you made it home safely. I haven’t looked at my Garmin data yet either. What once seemed so important is now trivial.

  2. Pingback: On the 2013 Boston Marathon | Dan's Marathon

  3. I’m so glad you’re safe and back at home. Oddly enough, I don’t seem to mind the rain that’s been falling for the past 24 hours. I hope we both can find a sense of calm soon.

  4. I came home late last night and still collecting my thoughts about what happened in Boston. Emptiness, sadness and rage. One thing is sure… I will be back next year to commemorate those who had to suffer and to show my gratitude to those who volunteered.


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