Hi everyone,
Happy Easter! Well, we’re here. The training is done. Months and months of running through sleet and snow and subzero temperatures in the Polar Vortex have come to this. Aches and pains in my knees, my hips, my calves, my shins, my ankle and my back have been worked through, eased and healed (mostly). I’ve grown stronger and leaner. I’m different, but the same. I’m ready.
Also done is my fundraising; through the amazing generosity of so many of you, not only did I hit my goal but I’ve blown it out of the water, with gifts still arriving daily. I’m humbled and honored by everyone’s generosity. I can admit now that I had serious doubts about being able to hit the goal, and it just shows what can happen when great people join together for a cause. Thank you!
My final reason to run is one that I know resonates with thousands and thousands of other people this year: for Boston. As you all know by now, Marathon Monday is a very special day in my life. I repeatedly called it the “best day of the year in Boston” for many years. As you also know, Boston is my home, my favorite city and one that I am deeply proud to be a part of. So when I turned to my friend Lisa last year on April 15, Marathon Monday, at around 1:30 pm and told her “Next year, I’m running this” – I already truly meant it.
About 45 minutes later, my city – MY city – would change forever. I was still in Brookline with Lisa and our friends Melissa and Jeff, and we had just decided to start walking to join friends and family who were watching at a bar called the Back Bay Social Club, about two blocks from the finish line on Boylston St. My first inkling that something was wrong came when my sister texted to see if I was okay. “Okay? I’m great!” I responded. She replied that she had seen on the news that something was wrong, that there was a blast at the finish line. It was then that I noticed that the Brookline police officers in front of me, who had been present all day in what is probably one of the most enjoyable work details of the year, looked panicked. They spoke hurriedly to each other and into their radios; we asked one what had happened and he said simply, “Some sort of blast went off. Multiple casualties.” At first I honestly wondered if this was something from the rumor mill – “multiple casualties” at the finish line on the happiest day of the year? I immediately tried calling my cousins on Boylston St.; nobody answered. I immediately decided that I should run to the finish line to find them; luckily my friends convinced me otherwise, as I wouldn't have gotten much further than another mile down the road before it was blocked off.
Over the next few hours, I finally heard from my cousins (they and all our friends were fine), and we sat glued to the TV watching horrifying images of what had happened that day. I remember calling my mom and just saying over and over that I didn’t think it was real. I remember feeling deeply hurt, angry and frightened that someone would do this to our city on my favorite day of the year. I felt personally violated.
As that week progressed and eventually the terrorists were captured or killed, the term “Boston Strong” became a rallying cry for our city. We learned more and more about the impossible bravery of everyday citizens who saved the lives of strangers, of first responders who didn’t let a single person who made it to an ambulance pass away, of leaders around the city from Mayor Menino to the police commissioner to Bib Papi who made us all feel safer again.
This past Friday, I went into Boston to Boylston Street for the first time in a few months. Just like last year, the viewers stands were erected; the crowd barricades were up. The stores along the street were decked out in blue and yellow, and this year, with daffodils. I went to the Marathon Expo to pick up my number and then walked with my friend Annie to have lunch in Forum restaurant, which was right in front of where one of the bombs went off last year. We also went to the Old South Church and picked up a handmade blue and gold scarf; there is one for every single runner this year, donated by strangers from all over the country. We went to the Boston Public Library to see the memorial from last year exhibited. I felt very emotional all day, but I also felt stronger, and even more ready to run.
I know that many people now think that the term “Boston Strong” is overused, and truth be told, it is. There are others who feel that people made too much fuss over a single terrible act when there are so many awful things that happen in the city every day: homelessness, violence, illness. That may also be true. But for someone who knows what Marathon Monday should be, and someone who loves this city as much as I do, I will never not get a shiver when I see those words written. They aren’t just a phrase on a t-shirt where I am concerned. And when I make the turn onto Boylston Street from Hereford this year, as I pass the firehouse on my left where heroes saved others last year only to lose their lives a year later, then further to the Back Bay Social Club where once again my friends and family will gather once again, and then to Forum where little Martin Richard passed away, I will feel strong. When I cross the finish line, I will feel even stronger. That is what Boston Strong is really about.
Thank you again for everyone’s support over these last few months. I hope to make you –and my city- proud.
Meg
Happy Easter! Well, we’re here. The training is done. Months and months of running through sleet and snow and subzero temperatures in the Polar Vortex have come to this. Aches and pains in my knees, my hips, my calves, my shins, my ankle and my back have been worked through, eased and healed (mostly). I’ve grown stronger and leaner. I’m different, but the same. I’m ready.
Also done is my fundraising; through the amazing generosity of so many of you, not only did I hit my goal but I’ve blown it out of the water, with gifts still arriving daily. I’m humbled and honored by everyone’s generosity. I can admit now that I had serious doubts about being able to hit the goal, and it just shows what can happen when great people join together for a cause. Thank you!
My final reason to run is one that I know resonates with thousands and thousands of other people this year: for Boston. As you all know by now, Marathon Monday is a very special day in my life. I repeatedly called it the “best day of the year in Boston” for many years. As you also know, Boston is my home, my favorite city and one that I am deeply proud to be a part of. So when I turned to my friend Lisa last year on April 15, Marathon Monday, at around 1:30 pm and told her “Next year, I’m running this” – I already truly meant it.
About 45 minutes later, my city – MY city – would change forever. I was still in Brookline with Lisa and our friends Melissa and Jeff, and we had just decided to start walking to join friends and family who were watching at a bar called the Back Bay Social Club, about two blocks from the finish line on Boylston St. My first inkling that something was wrong came when my sister texted to see if I was okay. “Okay? I’m great!” I responded. She replied that she had seen on the news that something was wrong, that there was a blast at the finish line. It was then that I noticed that the Brookline police officers in front of me, who had been present all day in what is probably one of the most enjoyable work details of the year, looked panicked. They spoke hurriedly to each other and into their radios; we asked one what had happened and he said simply, “Some sort of blast went off. Multiple casualties.” At first I honestly wondered if this was something from the rumor mill – “multiple casualties” at the finish line on the happiest day of the year? I immediately tried calling my cousins on Boylston St.; nobody answered. I immediately decided that I should run to the finish line to find them; luckily my friends convinced me otherwise, as I wouldn't have gotten much further than another mile down the road before it was blocked off.
Over the next few hours, I finally heard from my cousins (they and all our friends were fine), and we sat glued to the TV watching horrifying images of what had happened that day. I remember calling my mom and just saying over and over that I didn’t think it was real. I remember feeling deeply hurt, angry and frightened that someone would do this to our city on my favorite day of the year. I felt personally violated.
As that week progressed and eventually the terrorists were captured or killed, the term “Boston Strong” became a rallying cry for our city. We learned more and more about the impossible bravery of everyday citizens who saved the lives of strangers, of first responders who didn’t let a single person who made it to an ambulance pass away, of leaders around the city from Mayor Menino to the police commissioner to Bib Papi who made us all feel safer again.
This past Friday, I went into Boston to Boylston Street for the first time in a few months. Just like last year, the viewers stands were erected; the crowd barricades were up. The stores along the street were decked out in blue and yellow, and this year, with daffodils. I went to the Marathon Expo to pick up my number and then walked with my friend Annie to have lunch in Forum restaurant, which was right in front of where one of the bombs went off last year. We also went to the Old South Church and picked up a handmade blue and gold scarf; there is one for every single runner this year, donated by strangers from all over the country. We went to the Boston Public Library to see the memorial from last year exhibited. I felt very emotional all day, but I also felt stronger, and even more ready to run.
I know that many people now think that the term “Boston Strong” is overused, and truth be told, it is. There are others who feel that people made too much fuss over a single terrible act when there are so many awful things that happen in the city every day: homelessness, violence, illness. That may also be true. But for someone who knows what Marathon Monday should be, and someone who loves this city as much as I do, I will never not get a shiver when I see those words written. They aren’t just a phrase on a t-shirt where I am concerned. And when I make the turn onto Boylston Street from Hereford this year, as I pass the firehouse on my left where heroes saved others last year only to lose their lives a year later, then further to the Back Bay Social Club where once again my friends and family will gather once again, and then to Forum where little Martin Richard passed away, I will feel strong. When I cross the finish line, I will feel even stronger. That is what Boston Strong is really about.
Thank you again for everyone’s support over these last few months. I hope to make you –and my city- proud.
Meg