Mourning for Boston

As a former Boston Marathon participant, I did the only thing of support and solidarity I could think to do this morning:  I ran. 

I ran for the runners who lost loved ones. 

I ran for the many more runners whose loved ones are now permanently maimed. 

I ran for all the countless supporters of running, the curious, the visitors, the innocent bystanders who just happened to be in the finish line area on Monday.

I ran for the runners who couldn’t finish the race, the ones who suddenly found themselves running in the opposite direction, away from a finish line they had so long dreamt of, who were now confused, shocked, bewildered, disbelieving of the ghastly act that had transformed their hallowed race.

I ran for the families near and far who quickly learned of the tragic events unfolding but could not now get in touch with the competing son or daughter who had cell phones not on them but tucked away in race bags at the finish line.

I ran for the thousands of race organizers and volunteers who each year help to make this a world-class event.

I ran for those running and attending in memory of the school kids lost in the Newton school massacre, who now have more unbearable psychic baggage to go with the still raw memories no one should have.

I ran for all the families who have lost loved ones to senseless acts like this.

I ran for the first responders, the medics, the nurses, doctors, the policemen and firemen and especially surgeons who had seconds to make often life or death decisions on Monday.

I ran for my buddy Scott Tucker, the same guy who talked me into getting back into Ironman racing less than three years ago, who had finished the race in a very respectable 2:48 and was with friends celebrating a mile away when he heard the booms and then the disturbing news began filtering into their restaurant.

But, as the father of an 8 year-old boy who loves sports and has witnessed more than a few of his daddy’s races, I ran especially thinking of 8 year-old Martin Richard, the youngest of Monday’s victims, who was most likely near the finish line on Monday to cheer on a relative in the race.

I think of what his family must be going through, the long years ahead, and my heart goes out to them.  I can’t imagine being his father just now, so I will do this: whenever I run I will think of Martin Richard.

But tonight I’m going to hug my 8 year-old just a little bit tighter as I kiss him goodnight. 

David Evans, April 17

P.S. Boston Athletic Association puts on the Boston Marathon, and the head of the B.A.A. is Dave McGillivray, a titan in the New England endurance world and the former race director of the Bay State Triathlon.  In 1984 I flew from Michigan to Boston for the Bay State Triathlon, placing second overall in a fairly competitive field as I recall.  At the awards ceremony, Dave came up to me and asked me what my plans were and I told him that I had signed up to do Hawaii that October.  He said keep him mind and that, if I did well in Kona, he'd talk to the guys at Saucony for me and get me on their national triathlon team.  Well, 7th place at Kona got me on the Saucony team... at least until the bike/car accident of April of '85.  I haven't been in touch with Dave since, but I can't imagine what a week it has been as head of the Boston Marathon!