Bombs mar day of courage, strength
BOSTON — Conditions were glorious for the 117th running of the Boston Marathon.
Under a bright sky, and a cooling breeze, crowds in the hundreds of thousands lined the 42- kilometre route to watch more than 23,000 runners and wheelchair athletes, most of whom passed stringent time restrictions just for the honour of pinning a Boston race number to their T- shirts.
At sun- kissed Fenway Park, where Babe Ruth used to roam in day games such as these, the Red Sox were putting the finishing touches on a victory over the Tampa Bay Rays, just as the four- hour marathoners were approaching the finish line — and then this pristine Patriots’ Day was blown to shreds. Two bombs exploded near the finish line on Boylston Street.
At least three people were killed and more than 140 were injured. Some of the injuries were horrific. Eyewitnesses told of victims losing limbs, blood and debris everywhere when the smoke cleared. Medical tents, designed to treat fatigued and dehydrated runners, became temporary triage centres.
The fastest of marathoners were through and gone by the time the bombs went off. Most of the four- hour athletes were unable to finish as race officials shut down the course.
Julie Windham of Irvine, Calif., had crossed the finish line and was talking to her husband on her cellphone when the first bomb exploded. Windham was not physically hurt, but horribly shaken, visibly trembling for an hour or more.
“I’m just freaked out right now,” she said, breaking into tears. She had walked to her hotel at the Long Wharf and was standing in the lobby wrapped in a post- race foil blanket.
It was Windham’s first Boston Marathon, the fifth marathon of her career. She’d felt particularly good this day, beating her usual time by five minutes, and that may have saved her life. She was 10 metres or so beyond the finish line when the bombs went off.
“It was about 4: 09 ( on the race clock) and I finished at 3: 55 but I was still standing there because I was talking to my husband on the phone. And the explosions went off,” Windham said.
“And then they dispersed everybody, told us you’ve got to keep walking.
“Everybody started running. And people were shouting — ‘ why is everybody running?’ It was just chaos. They cleared the area as fast as they could and the police and ambulances came in.”
The ugliest acts can bring out the best in people. Some runners ran right into the Massachusetts General Hospital to donate blood for the bomb victims. They gave all they had for 26 miles, then found more to give from the well of goodwill.
Dr. Paul Lenz, a family physician from Akron, Ohio, wished he could have been there to help. Having finished the race in 3: 21, he was safely back at his hotel when the bombs exploded. And police weren’t letting anyone into the zone at that point.
It’s all just dumb luck, where a runner or viewer happened to be on the course when disaster struck — safe or doomed. Paul’s wife, Kim, wondered what might have been if she’d gone to the finish line, as planned.
“I’m usually at the finish line because I like to see him finish, but I was told it was going to be a zoo, so crowded, so I stopped
It’s such a cowardly thing to do. STEVE MACLELLAN RUNNER
at the 17- mile mark,” said Kim, a pharmacist by profession. “I wanted to see his eyes.”
In her Boston weekend, Kim was overwhelmed by Boston’s love of this race, and its participants.
“It’s a sad day for Boston,” she said. “It’s so well- organized and they embrace the race. Merchants see people with race bibs or jackets on and they give them a 20 per cent discount.”
Families walked home from the race site, many unable to see their family members finish the race. In the first hours after the race, subway lines were closed for security and the downtown streets teemed with masses of people, as the initial hysteria gave way to a sense of order and retreat.
At their hotel, the Ottawa Senators players, management and coaches lingered in the lobby, awaiting news of their scheduled 7 p. m. game against the Boston Bruins, which was prudently postponed. By early evening, the Senators were en route to the airport, hoping to get out on their charter.
The game will be rescheduled. Hockey was not a priority on Monday.
Steve MacLellan of Lincoln, Mass., was running his eighth Boston Marathon and the 15th of his career. This time, he fell short, through no fault of his own. Officials shooed him and thousands of others off the course just a kilometre from the finish.
“The marathon isn’t as important as people’s lives,” MacLellan said, before heading into his hotel. “It’s such a cowardly thing to do, to go after innocent people who have come from all around the world to enjoy themselves.”
At dusk, Boylston Street remained cordoned off by police. Beyond the barriers, hundreds of racers’ warming blankets lay scattered on the ground like pavement scars, from a race now scarred.
“I’d come back,” said Julie Windham. “It’s not Boston. It’s such a good event. I just can’t believe people were hurt a few minutes after running a race.”