The bombings at the Boston Marathon occurred two years ago today. I still find myself overwhelmed with moments of grief from time to time. There's an image reel in my head that plays over and over again at unexpected moments. I hear a blast and watch a gray/white billow of smoke roll across the finish line. I hear the sound of scraping and see the metal lifeguard chair I had been sitting on moments before being dragged across the intersection of Boylston and Dartmouth to make space for emergency vehicles. Medical workers in white volunteer jackets with wheelchairs rush into the haze that has now covered the street. The people who emerge are coated in blood; many of them are missing limbs. It takes seconds for these images run through my mind, vivid snippets that always make me cry.
I'm a casual runner, who can't help but geek out (read, research, write) over topics that interest me; running just happens to be one of them. See my posts for my running-related musings on pounding pavement.
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