My husband is a runner. He wasn’t at the Boston Marathon, but he is training for a marathon. He would like to run the Boston Marathon someday, as all marathon runners would. He is still determined to run the marathon, but he is concerned about me, as a spectator standing on those side lines in watching for him to cross the finish line.
I admit, I’m a little scared too. The thought that a bomb could go off right next to me, while I’m standing there unobservant, camera in hand, tracking DH’s progress on my cell phone. If we were in Boston, it could have been me.
I’ve been watching the news coverage all day, crying. As of this writing, there are two confirmed deaths, one an 8 year old boy, and well over a hundred injured. It’s horrible.
And the big question is WHY? Runners are generally a friendly group, they help each other out by encouraging one another, helping with injuries, and offering a banana to help recoup. Boston is a high profile race, but the bombs didn’t go off when the first winners passed, they went off at the four hour mark, when your average runner would be passing the finish line.
DH and I are talking about contingency plans. For every major race he runs, we should have a rendezvous point. He should always carry some cash and ID. Near the end of the run, when they started blocking off the street, those runners are running low on calories and water. After his 20 mile run last weekend, had trouble recovering in order to come home because he was weak from energy loss and became slightly disoriented (I imagine it’s like having low blood sugar). After a few snacks at the car and some water, he was recovering and when he made it home, I handed him glass after glass of water, while he munched on anything with carbohydrates. At least with some cash you might be able to find a restaurant to purchase a little food and water to keep your body from going into shock. Imagine how all those runners, so close to the finish line where food and water was waiting for them, were coping with being cut off and no news save the two booms they heard? Knowing there were loved ones waiting for them – somewhere beyond the gate – their bodies giving in to fatigue… this was a hard day for them all.
And likewise, I have to make sure I carry ID and cash. In case something happens, EM personnel need to know that I have medication allergies and a long list of medications I take. I’m lazy about this and I shouldn’t be. I could have a heart attack someday, and be given aspirin just to have my throat close up. I don’t have a med-alert bracelet either because I find them ugly and expensive. (I know, this isn’t an excuse.) I don’t always remember to carry my Epipen either. Really, someone needs to get on my ass about these things.
I’ve digressed from the original topic – the horrible incidents of the day. I don’t live in Boston, I don’t have friends in Boston, but my husband is part of the runner’s world and all I can think of is what if this happens at one of his marathons? It feels like it’s not safe to leave the house anymore.
If this turns out to be another individual with mental illness – real or imagined – I don’t even want to think about what this means to the mental health community.
To leave you on an optimistic note: some of the runners that had already crossed the finish line continued to run to the nearest hospital to donate blood.
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