One Decade After The Marathon Bombings

Ten years ago today I was an eager yet earnest runner and had I been earlier when en route to purchase a sports watch to time my early-morning training, I may have been among the masses of people by the Finish Line of the Boston Marathon during the twin detonations.

Minutes prior to my morning jaunt on Marathon Monday 2013, I dispatched an email to friends with the subject line: ‘My Personal Boston Marathon’, which hours later inadvertently proved to be misleadingly worrisome to many recipients. Timestamped at 606a, the message cited my fitness drive and the need to purchase a watch to time my runs, which was along the 22-23 mile mark of the world-renowned race.

I was living off Beacon Street by Washington Square, a Brookline neighborhood along the race route, and my run started and ended on Beacon Street after circling the Chestnut Hill Reservoir, west of Washington Square.

A perfect way to kick off a day, the run’s distance was 3.6 miles — far less than the 26.2 miles of the more prestigious race — and I estimated timing to be roughly 40 minutes though the stopwatch later revealed I typically finished in 30-ish minutes.

After fulfilling professional workday responsibilities by early afternoon, I walked Beacon Street inbound alongside marathoners and those cheering on the runners. My destination was the now-late CitySports athletic supply store on Boylston Street, two blocks beyond the Finish Line also on Boylston, just beside the central branch of the public library.

But shortly after passing through Kenmore Square, roughly the 25-mile mark, I noticed runners stockpiling up ahead. Then I saw officials closing the gates to access the public transportation train line and police officers with their service weapons drawn.

A look at my cellphone showed no incoming activity, which I later speculated was due to officials closing off communications; but several minutes later, as I made my way toward the opposite direction of the Finish Line, text messages and voicemail indicators lit up my phone. Many of those overtures originated from recipients of the morning email as they already had heard about the bombs and were inquiring about my, friends’ and loved ones’ well being.

At the time, I was 11 to 16 months into recovery following surgical repairs to my left leg: two outside ligaments were tightened in my ankle in May 2012 and in December 2011 my knee’s torn meniscus had been shaved down.

Recovery also included independently kicking around and chasing a soccerball on fields such as an astroturf pitch on campus at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology in Kendall Square, Cambridge.

While following the aftermath of the bombings and the suspects during the next few days, I realized many more circumstances had come close to my life and times:
 
*for a few hours in the evening of Thursday, April 18, I was in Kendall Square, three-ish blocks from where the bombers murdered MIT Police Officer Sean Collier while the lawman was on patrol. I believe I left Kendall about 30 minutes before the respected officer was killed in the line of duty.

*for two-plus years, from mid-late 2010 until early 2013, I lived in Watertown, roughly 1.5 miles from where the bombers and police had their firefight and where the younger brother later was flushed out of a boat where he’d sought refuge and pencilled a confession on the inside of the watercraft’s hull.
 

*an orthopedic surgeon at Mt. Auburn Hospital in Cambridge, located a block or two east of the Watertown border, diagnosed my knee and ankle ailments. This hospital also successfully treated Transit Police Officer Richard Donohue, whose femoral artery was severed during the Watertown firefight, later reported as friendly fire. After very nearly bleeding out, the retired lawman is an avid supporter of donating blood.

*so too did the Cambridge hospital initially treat the surviving brother after he was apprehended when leaving the boat. He then was transferred to the Beth Israel Hospital in Boston where I had my knee operation.

*the memorial service for Officer Collier, attended by then-Vice President Joe Biden, was by the MIT soccer field where I rehabbed my left leg.

There likely are many more close brushes — like I long wondered whether I ever was in the immediate presence of either brother considering they grew up in Central Square, Cambridge, through which I often passed from 2010 and on.
 
I no longer am a runner, thanks largely to shinsplints later diagnosed as ‘severe’ as prompted by repeatedly pounding the pavement. The preferred exercise routine is rowing, an exercycle or kicking around a soccerball on a grass or astroturf field.
 

I did end up purchasing a simple sports watch from CitySports but, just like the store, so too is that watch late as well.

As to whether I am concerned about once again being close by calamity like terror attacks or shootings, I recall what my Dad long ago told me.
 
‘You can’t live life like that’, he advised.

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