I decided over the weekend that this week's blog post would be about the Boston Marathon. I didn't really know what angle I'd take with it. I was most likely going to talk about how it's always been one of my favorite days of the year. When I was younger it signified a day full of hot dogs and hamburgers and playing with my cousins and passing out water to the runners. And now that I'm older it signifies the one day a year that everyone in my city actually cares about running. And maybe it also signifies a day of day drinking and cheering for random people I don't know, and a few people that I do.
But after the bombs went off on Monday, it was as if my angle was chosen for me. I couldn't not talk about it. I feel so badly for those who lost their lives, were injured or were emotionally traumatized by Monday's attack. It's something that I never imagined happening--no one did. And to an extent, it still does not feel real.
For the most part, I feel as if all that I can say about Monday has already been said by news stations and other bloggers. Boston is a strong city. We will overcome this. We will surround those who were directly affected with all the support they need. I truly believe all of this. But some of my other feelings about this situation have been all over the place--sadness, anger, confusion, annoyance. And reading what other people feel has been helpful, but I'm still trying to work out some things on my own.
Firstly, I feel sorry for all the runners who trained for months to either not be able to complete the race, or to complete it, but then to feel their accomplishment is forever tainted.
I know that no runner in Monday's marathon will admit their disappointment, because there are much larger things at play here, and much more important things to fret over. But to everyone who ran the marathon, whether you finished or not--I know how hard you worked, and I am so sorry you didn't get to experience the joy and sense of accomplishment that it should have brought you.
And secondly, I think something I've been struggling with in recent days is learning how to share. All of the sudden, everyone wants to be a part of Boston, everyone loves the Boston Marathon. Instead of being something I share with my family and friends and the people I stand next to as we shout "GO PINK SHIRT!! YOU CAN DO IT! HERE WE GO LISA! YEAH NAVY ATHLETICS!!", the marathon has now become something (largely through social media) that I share with the whole country. Even the whole world.
And in some ways, that is great. I am so impressed with how quickly people have rushed to support Boston, and those who live and/or work in the city, and were affected by the attack.
But in other ways--more selfish ways--it's been a little tough to realize that a day that you hold so close to your heart is now held in everyone else's heart too.
Again, this feeling may not be something that people in Boston are willing to admit. Because the outpouring of love has been so great, and the attack was so tragic. But I can't help but feel like I used to feel in high school when that great, unknown band that I loved suddenly became mainstream and popular.
Along with all of the questions everyone in the city, and the country has--Who would do such a thing? Are we really safe anywhere? What can we do to stop these things from continuously occurring?--I'm also left with selfish questions that I've been a little afraid to ask--Will Marathon Monday not be the same anymore? Will it become so popular that I won't even be able to find a spot to cheer from anymore? How long will I have to walk past police officers holding machine guns? Were people afraid of my pink gym bag that I took on the T this morning?
I know that the Boston Marathon was never really "mine" to begin with, and that what happened Monday doesn't take the marathon away from me, or anyone else who loves it as much as I do. No one, except the person or persons who planted those bombs, is trying to take it away from me. This attack has brought to light what a positive and heartwarming event the Boston Marathon truly is--and people just want to be a part of that. And who could blame them? Maybe sharing it will make it even better--and help us all heal faster.
"Because it's okay to feel things. And be who you are about them."
-Stephen Chbosky, Perks of Being a Wallflower
Jenny, this is a really interesting perspective - thank you. I had a sentence in my last post that I ended up deleting before publishing, something about "Boston is not mine, so how can I possibly understand what people who call Boston home are feeling, and who am I to write a post about it?" I deleted it because I wasn't sure if it was okay/appropriate to say that your city is not my own, while so many other people were declaring that right now we are all Bostonians. So it's interesting to see that real Bostonians, while you appreciate the outpouring of support from the rest of the world, are also aware that Monday's experience is, to some degree, your very own.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ebbe! I definitely see your point in wanting to publish that sentence--and completely understand why you didn't in the end. Every time something happens in any city, it's nice to say that the whole country feels the same--but I think that's not necessarily true. The people who live in that city are undoubtedly the most affected. (I was totally guilty of emailing someone in New York right after Hurricane Sandy and they basically replied, "I'll get back to you when my living room isn't under water and my cell phone isn't dead." And then I felt like a jerk, because I had lost sight of how affected they were because I didn't live there.) That being said, I can't get mad at anyone who says they support Boston and are praying for Boston. It all comes from a good place.
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