Our Shared Humanity is Our Hope

This is certainly not the final blog post of this training season that I expected or even hoped to write. In truth, I have found it quite difficult to even imagine how I might organize my thoughts on this week’s tragedies and triumphs. In some moments my thoughts seem to move as quickly as the sound bites we see on the news and in other moments seem frozen like a still photograph lodged in my memory. I have not been able to organize my thoughts or reflections and am not sure I every will, so here it goes which may mostly emerge as ramblings as I type what comes to mind.

Beginning with Hope and Promise

Monday, April 15, 2013 began filled with hope and promise. For anyone that has run with the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge Team knows that arriving in Hopkinton to meet up with your 550 teammates is a pretty amazing experience. I met up with my teammate Mike who lives in Tewksbury and whose wife would drive Steve, Andrew and I into Hopkinton. She would return to Tewksbury to get their kids and neighbor’s kids and would be waiting for Mike at the finish line. We were very grateful for Mike’s wife getting up early and driving us. It made for such an easy morning. (In retrospect, I am also pleased that while they were at the finish line, they were not physically harmed.)

 Many of us arrive at the start feeling less prepared than we hoped because of the many challenges we faced during the season. However, we arrive anyway and are ready to go in spite of our doubts. We have the energy and inspiration of our 550 teammates and 26.2 miles of cheering fans who will carry us from Hopkinton to Boston. We wear the names of loved ones on our shirts which remind us that the 26.2 miles we have in front of us is not as challenging as what cancer patients and their families each day. We tape up parts of our bodies that need the extra support. We take pictures as a team and then there is also the “living proof photo” which is a group of team members who are either cancer survivors or are currently being treated. Wow! We cheer for each other and get psyched. Together we are making great strides for a world without cancer. 

DFMC TEAM 2013 (9am 4/15/2013)

 As Charity Runners we are in the third wave. This means we start about an hour after the first runners. Our start time was 10:40am. I will always remember the sounds of hovering helicopters and the energy that is felt when thousands of runners take to the street and are doing so in “honor of” or “support of” other people. It really renews my faith in humanity. In the midst of all the excitement and celebration, I had no idea just how much of our shared humanity I would experience in the hours ahead.

Slow and Steady

We started off with a group of Dana Farber Teammates. However, my running buddy Steve was not feeling well. In fact, he wrestled with whether or not he should even be running for the days that preceded the marathon. He had bronchitis bad and probably should not be running. I think if he were just running a marathon to run for himself, he would have opted for the sidelines. However, when you run for Dana Farber and in honor of someone like Matty Dubuc (the boy that Steve runs in honor of) it would take a lot more than bronchitis to keep Steve or any of my teammates from running. It was probably by mile 10 that Steve was really struggling. However, his commitment to keep at it was so admirable and inspiring. As a teammate and a friend, I told him we were in it together and it could take us as long as it needed. Later in the day, we would learn that Steve’s Bronchitis and our slowed pace for the day was actually pretty lucky. 

Kerry and Steve somewhere in Wellseley, MA

 We saw my mom and my dear friends Lauren, Jen, Barbie and Bill in Wellesley. My mom Lauren and Jenn would then make their way to great us at the finish line. We said, “Take your time, we are going slowly” (not that we needed to tell anyone that). Next up was Linn and her family. We were truly experiencing the magical magnetic force of the crowds and supports on the course that help pull you to Boston. We began to measure our steps not in miles but who we would see next. We saw Sheila and Johanna at Mile 17 and then Glen and Adam. Hugs would fuel us as we then made our way to see my brothers, Liisa, Moe, and my nieces and nephew. There were more hugs and we were on our way as we crested the final hill in Newton-Heart Break Hill. We met up with some other DFMC’ers and rather than feeling overwhelmed with the 5 miles or so we had left, we stopped for a picture and smiled and said “Go DFMC” or something like that then we were off again. 

One of our last smiles-Mile 21

Fear and Confusion

Everything changed at about mile 22. Police cars started to race by us on the course. At first we wondered if someone was hurt or maybe had a heart attack. Then the police cars kept coming. Some were marked cars and others were unmarked cars. The runners made their way to the right side of the road. It was then we met up with Shifter who has run with DFMC many years. In fact this year was his 20^th year. He told us that there had been an explosion at Marathon Sports. At this point it did not sink in. I quickly asked someone for a phone because I did not have one. I know my mom worries and I wanted her to know that I was fine. It went right to her voicemail but I said I was fine. 

It was a few minutes later that another runner told us that bombs had gone off at the finish line and there were bodies everywhere. It was at this point that it hit me. My mom, Lauren, Jen and Steve’s brother were at the finish line. That moment will forever be etched in my memory. In a split second I felt terror. “Oh my God,” I thought, “did I put them in harms way?” I wanted to scream but was stricken by the silent screaming in my head that repeated “no, please no.” With all of my might I was wishing that I could reverse time. I wanted to just get to them and know they were ok.  I was very aware that I could not reverse time. I could not undo whatever had been done.  I was not alone. Steve and I were with so many other runners and we were all experiencing the same fear. Many of us did not have cell phones. However, those that did were so very kind and shared with those of us who didn’t. I will always remember the moment that a group of us stopped still in the street. We did not know what horror awaited us. In that moment we all grabbed hands and began to walk together. I do not know if I will ever know the names of the people that we locked hands with, but I will forever be grateful for the camaraderie of strangers who were united by our fear and found strength by sharing the little comfort we could provide each other.

Not sure where we are headed

 We all frantically tried to get in touch with loved ones. Most of the people I was with had family and friends waiting for them at the finish line. I could not get through to my mom and I did not know Lauren or Jen’s numbers. When I was young I knew all my friends numbers. However, with cell phones I no longer know anyone’s number. Fortunately, I was able to also remember my dad’s home number and called him. He was then able to call my brother who had seen a Facebook post from my mom “bombs went off, but we are safe.” My dad called me back with the good news and while I did not know how we would reconnect, I knew my mom, Lauren and Jen were safe. At this point, I felt great relief but was also very aware that I was with almost 200 runners, many of whom were still frantically trying to get in touch with loved ones. It was very soon that Steve learned his brother was also safe. We could breathe a bit easier but were worried about so many teammates and their families.  

For a while we walked back and forth on Boylston Street. We were not really sure where to go. There was talk that a bus would come get us and bring us to a safe place, but the buses were being used to move the National Guard around so it was not clear when. Many runners were starting to get cold and after running 24 miles it is pretty tricky to just stop without warm clothes and water. It is here we experienced the unbelievable kindness of so many volunteers, police officers and many spectators. I just remember being asked so many times “what do you need? Can I get you a phone to use? Do you need some water?” At this point all I needed was to be with loved ones, but having the knowledge that they were ok was enough. I would wait as long as it takes and would not complain about anything. I could only imagine what people were dealing with down at the finish line and throughout Boston. I was so grateful to be with Steve and a few other teammates and knew we would be ok.

A Synagogue on Boylston Street opened it doors to runners to get warm and to have a place to sit. I do not know the name of this Synagogue but will forever be grateful for their hospitality. I was reminded that regardless of faith we all share our humanity and this Synagogue certainly exemplified human kindness and compassion at its best. I was so taken by absolute strangers who once again were so concerned with making sure we had what we needed and if they could help. There were phones for us to use and computers to get updates to our friends and families because cell phones were not working for anything but text messaging. I am not sure how long we were there. As someone who does not spend a lot of time in churches or synagogues, I will say that I have never felt so welcome, so safe or in a place of such refuge. I remember thinking that this is what God’s house or place of worship (whoever you believe God to be) should feel like and not only in times of crisis.

It was at the Synagogue that I was able to post on Facebook that the buses would be taking us to the Boston Common. We had been told the city was on lock down and in particular the Copley area and figured that our families were likely stuck in the city too. I was not sure that my mom, Lauren, Jen, or Steve’s brother would get the message. However, I knew that we could try. It was then we were told the bus was outside. It was all so surreal. We piled onto a bus and were escorted by police. I do not know how to explain it other than it felt like we were at war. I guess we sort of were.  I looked at the faces of the people around me on the bus. Although I did not know anyone other than Steve, we shared this bond. We were all trying to make our way to loved ones. When the bus arrived the park was filled with swat teams and National Guard Troops. As I looked out the window I could also see my mom who had climbed up on a iron fence. I then saw Jen and Lauren. My eyes welled with tears. It was just a few hours ago that I did not know if I would see them and if I did, that they would be unharmed or alive. I caught my breath and stepped off the bus and just waved to them with a huge smile on my face. My worst nightmare had been averted. It was nothing more than luck that kept us safe but in that moment I just made my way to them and hugged them tightly. Steve’s brother was on his way and would be meeting us shortly. 

Getting off the bus

Swat teams and police fill the Boston Common

When Steve’s brother and friend arrived, we learned that they were on Boylston Street between the two blasts. It was so surreal. Here were standing in Boston on the day of the marathon and just feeling so grateful to be alive yet we remained so worried for the many family and friends of teammates and other runners that we knew would also have been in harms way. I am going to stop here. The story does not end here and I probably could go on for a long time retelling all that I remember. However, I wanted to choose to end with what I am taking away from this horrific event.

I will start with a great lesson that running always reminds me and that is we are stronger than we think we are. However, I will add to this that we often discover our strength through our connections to others. I am forever grateful to the runners, spectators and so many volunteers, police and first responders with whom I shared Monday’s horror. While I may never forget the fear I experienced, I am choosing to focus on the hands that grabbed mine to remind me I was never alone. I am choosing to remember the strangers that offered me their phones. I am choosing to remember those that continuously asked us if we needed anything at a time when they were probably also in need of something.

I will always remember the images of those who were injured or lost their life and their families. My heart will forever ache for the ways this hateful act has forever changed their lives. It could have been any of our families and in many ways they are our families. As runners, as a community, as a city and as a country we must do all we can to honor those whose lives were taken and support those who will have a long road to recovery. “Boston Strong” does not end as the news cycle fades. We must make a commitment to see that all those who are wounded or lost loved ones and their families “have what they need” not just today but also tomorrow and the next day and the next.

I will always remember that light always emerges in spite of darkness. There will always be bad people who do horrible things. I am not sure that we can ever rid this world of evil. However, the events of Monday and those that followed this past week have reminded me that goodness always wins over evil. Etched in my memory are the many first responders, police officers, volunteers and spectators that did what they could to save a life, to comfort a stranger, and help people connect with their loved ones. Through the many acts of courage and kindness the best of humanity emerged in the midst of such tragedy.

I will always remember what it felt like to be told someone I love could be in harms way and how helpless I felt. I will also remember the compassion I experienced from so many in the midst of my fear and how that brought comfort. While it was a different experience, I would imagine that families with loved ones fighting cancer may feel that same terror and helplessness when confronted with the unimaginable. I will continue to do my part so one day they will not have to feel that way.

I will return to run the Boston Marathon in 2014 as a member of the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge Team, not because I need to finish the 26.2 miles or because I want a medal but because I believe that goodness always wins over evil and this is how we do it. As the week went on I realized how very lucky I was. I will honor those who were not as lucky by letting this experience soften my heart rather than harden it. I will move from the feeling of being touched by terror to the memory of being touched by tenderness by so many who with courage and compassion showed the best of our humanity. I too will work to show the best of humanity in all that I do.

My journey to the Boston Marathon for the past 2 years as a member of the Dana Farber Marathon Challenge Team has brought $30,000 to fund cancer research in support of a world without cancer. We will keep working at it. My teammates and I will continue to do what I can to make this world a better place. Right foot, left foot, breathe.

 With Gratitude,

Kerry D