Last March, I was standing at my desk in Boulder, Colorado when I heard the Boston Marathon bombings had occurred. I couldn’t believe it. I was heart broken, frightened and had to call and email every person I knew and cared about back home to make sure they were alright, that they weren’t running, they weren’t watching, they weren’t hurt. As the days went by and the manhunt continued, I’d choke back tears every morning as I watched the news about the survivors, the witnesses and the city grieving, seeking revenge and coming to grips with what happened.
I wanted to be there so badly. I had been to many marathons. I’ve watched people I cared deeply for cross that finish-line after the hardest months of training in their life. I pictured myself there every single day for a while after the attacks.
This year I am committed to going and watching the Boston Marathon. I’m here in Massachusetts, there’s no reason for me not to go. No matter what I do, where I am, I’ll be present and mindful on the next Boston Marathon Day. I’ve never felt more connected to my home than that day.