My sister called me from Newton, Mass., early yesterday morning - giddy, excited and chatting enthusiastically before I had my coffee. She had just gone for a run (another thing I hadn't done) and was totally pumped for her favorite day of the year: The Boston Marathon.
We grew up on the Marathon, either standing on Comm Ave, or somewhere in Wellesley or Newton. Ineighth grade I remember riding out to Hopkinton to take my dad to the start of his Boston Marathon moment (the moments turned into 4+ hours, but who's counting?)
When I learned what had transpired in Boston Monday, my heart sank. How could there be a bombing on my sister's favorite day of the year? How could this celebration of months and months, miles and miles of training be detonated in such a way?
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This annual tradition is forever changed. Like our airports, our schools, and our public venues, our races will now be affected. It hurts to know that our kids are growing up in such a different world.
Be safe, hug your peeps, and DON'T MESS WITH BOSTON, we are one tough group.
