Boston Strong
In the past year, I have been on the scene of two disasters at iconic marathons in New York and Boston. Their respective aftermaths couldn’t have been more different. In New York, we saw hordes of runners venturing off into Staten Island, handing out socks and water bottles. There was also the vain attempt by thousands of tourists like myself trying to recreate the magic of running a marathon by doing a few loops in Central Park. The lasting image for me was the gas lineups as I approached and exited the city by car, highlighting the stark contrast between my weekend marathon vacation and the dire circumstances of many New Yorkers.
Several months later, as I trained through a particularly long and relentless Canadian winter for Boston, I still felt uneasy about the public perception of marathoners. Something about New York had stayed with me. There were people who found the idea of running the marathon through the misery of others abhorrent. Perhaps these critics had touched upon something important. Perhaps the marathon as an event had become nothing more than a smug activity for those who had the money and time to obsess over it. Perhaps us marathoners were just a bunch of upper-middle class self-actualizers, bent on getting our finisher’s medal at all costs.
But on April 15 at 2:49 p.m. – as the f irst of t wo explosions went off near the finish line in Boston – everything changed. While the cancellation of the New York Marathon seemed to divide the running community – organizers against runners; sub-elites against lottery runners; runners against non-runners – the tragedy of Boston seemed to unite ever yone. The running community banded together, regardless of what corral they came from. Non-runners smiled and waved at runners who wore their Boston T-shirts in the days following. I stood just a few hundred metres from where the bombs went off, and the awful carnage is still fresh in my head. But so is the image of runners, b.a.a. volunteers, police officers and bystanders running towards the site of the blast to help people.
It would only be natural to f lee from the scene of an explosion – and in the minutes after the two blasts, there was much talk of other bombs in the area. Yet so many of these people stayed calm, ran back towards the source of the danger and did the best they could to save lives.
In Copley Square shortly after the blasts, I learned that these Good Samaritans and the onsite medical staff saved scores of lives that day. The self lessness that these people showed towards complete strangers along Boylston Street continued to echo throughout the day and night. There are countless stories of kindness. I spoke to one woman who was rounding up displaced runners and letting them shower at her apartment. She was giving away clothes to those who couldn’t get back to their hotels. Runners from every part of the world were congregating in hotel lobbies, bars and in the homes of strangers to be together in that uncertain time. The Boston experience made me proud to be a part of the running community. Michael Doyle, Web Producer (Guest Editor)
@mdfdoyle