The Shoes We Wore #BostonShoes

I’m not much of a runner, so my goal was simply to finish—which made walking away at 25.8 hard to swallow. But I’m lucky to be here and lucky to have my parents.

Shock, anger, grief, disbelief, and sorrow were just a few of the emotions I experienced in the days after the marathon.

The nonprofit I was about to run for is a creditable one with a rich history in cancer research, so I knew I wouldn’t have to worry when it came to fundraising. The toughest task was the training.

I hope that marathon spirit never dies in Boston. It is unlike anything else.

Although the day has been clouded by this awful event, I choose to cherish the moments that the spirit of the marathon is about.

Part of me is still stuck in that moment of utter disbelief when I was told that bombs had been ignited and people were injured or dead.

The thought of two very important people being dead because they came to support me, and not having a phone to contact them, was probably the worst feeling I have ever felt in my entire life.

The range of emotions from being on such a high from running my first marathon combined with the horrific tragedy is all hard to work through and comprehend. How can the excitement of running the Boston Marathon be coupled with such sadness?

I felt helpless. I couldn’t help anyone around me who had questions about the finish line, and I couldn’t find my friend, running buddy, and high school teammate who may have been in danger.

A week later, I connected with the people whose phones I used that day. I heard back from all of them—they’re from Virginia, Oregon, and Hawaii. We live so far apart, but we have a link that will remain for a very long time.