I was doing fine with all of this marathon bombing craziness until today. Now that I am farther away and can’t see that for the most part it is business as usual. It was interesting being on the other side of the equation, being “there” where all the action was, and seeing that, for the most part, it wasn’t a big deal. Yes, there were SWAT vans and armed guards parked outside out hotel. We had to show our ID and hotel room key to go pass them. But most of Boston on Tuesday was up and running as usual. We walked to Bunker Hill. We met friends for lunch. We visited the ducklings. We were only briefly freaked out when 1. a lady on a street we were going down was walking the other way, crying, and telling us how they were closing the street and 2. when somebody left a backpack on a bench near the ducklings and someone asked, “Whose backpack is that?” and it took a minute or two for the owner to realize that his bag was causing a lot of anxiety.
But today I, like the rest of the country, was fixated on the images and descriptions of all the drama that went on last night and the hunt that just ended a few hours ago. The anxiety of the unknown and the fear for my friends that live there was a lot more difficult to deal with than SWAT vans outside the hotel – even though I knew that my friends were probably sitting at home, embarrassed that there was so much concern on their behalf when they’re just chillin’ and making brownies to pass the time.
I am so grateful that they found the guy. So grateful for the brave man who investigated his bloody boat and the brave officers who spent this week tirelessly pursuing the bombers. I still feel a little bit weird about having been a part of this, about people worrying for my family, about knowing that there actually was cause for concern. But I also feel a greater kinship with my fellow runners, and greater support from those who aren’t so much runners . . . yet.
And while I’ve been wiling away the minutes waiting for this guy to get caught (and letting my children test their acrobatic skills on our couch), I caught up on my Babble postings for the week:
My gut reaction to the marathon bombing. Not my best moment.
Small people should eat off of small plates.
After a week like this, I think we could all use a night out with friends.
And one way to keep your kids from developing allergies may be to feed them fish.