Lohud photographer Seth Harrison's uplifting journey in Boston
BOSTON – There would be no pretending that the 118th running of the Boston Marathon would be like ones that came before.
Not for the race organizers, not for the runners — of which I was one — and certainly not for the people of Boston, who, after all, were the ones targeted in the terror attacks at last year's marathon.
After the bombings near the finish line last year, the differences were impossible to miss. There was the increased security presence, which along with many more uniformed police officers, included an undisclosed number of undercover officers, plus 400 armed military police from the National Guard.
There also was the increased number of spectators, projected to be upward of 1 million. The field of runners was also increased to 39,000, the largest ever, which included 4,000 who weren't able to finish last year's marathon due to the bombing.
These were just a few of the obvious differences.
Other differences were perhaps more subtle, but no less meaningful. While it had become common to talk about this year's Boston Marathon as being redemptive and cathartic, both for the city and for the marathon community, the feeling throughout Boston prior to the race, and certainly out on the course during the marathon, was one of redemption and resilience.
This was borne out by the sheer number of spectators who lined the course for 26.2 miles, by the homemade signs and shouts of support that the spectators directed at the runners, and by the runners themselves, many of whom returned to Boston after running this marathon before.
The signs throughout Boston in the weeks leading up to the marathon said "We Run Together." In a city that has always coalesced around the marathon, the response to the tragedy of last year's marathon has brought this city together in a powerful way.
The Boston Marathon is held each year on Patriots' Day, the local holiday commemorating the Battle of Lexington and Concord. It's also a day in which, by tradition, the Red Sox play an early day game, after which many of the fans spill out of Fenway Park to watch the runners in the last mile of the marathon.
This day belongs to the people of Boston, and by their sheer presence, they were reclaiming this day, and this race, as their own.
For me, as for all those who ran last year's race and were returning once again, this year's marathon had become equally personal. Last year's marathon was my second time running Boston, and after seven marathons and three knee surgeries, was supposed to be my last marathon.
The knee had given me trouble all throughout training for the race, and had caused me to show up at the starting line in Hopkinton with one leg that was not happy to be there. By the last few miles, I was running with a knee that was the size of a grapefruit, and the pain had forced me to walk for stretches over the final miles.
That's where the day turned from painfully disappointing, to incredibly uplifting, and ultimately to heartbreaking.
As I ran-walked the course over the last two miles, each time I'd have to stop to walk the crowds would start shouting at me to cheer me on. To say that their cheers carried me over the finish line is not an understatement. Shortly after the explosions, it became clear that the victims of the bombings were the spectators who lined Boylston Street near the finish, the same type of folk who just a few minutes earlier were cheering me on. I grieved as if the victims were friends.
Boston is the only marathon that requires most runners to qualify for entry with a qualifying time from a previous marathon. With no qualifying time for the 2014 marathon, I had resigned myself to not being there this year. When the marathon organizers opened up several hundred slots for runners who were present last year, I didn't hesitate to jump at the opportunity. My bad knee would just have to tolerate one more winter of marathon training, and one last run from Hopkinton into Boston.
Out in Hopkinton before the start of the marathon, runners gather at what's known as Athlete's Village, but what is actually the grounds of the local middle school. For several hours before the start, runners exit shuttle buses from Boston, and alternate between finding a patch of grass to relax on and waiting in long lines for the portable toilets, a familiar ritual at large marathons.
At the starting line, which is about a half-mile from the school, the atmosphere was not very different from past marathons. Runners crossed the starting line in waves and were cheered on by the spectators lining the first mile of the course. Everything went off as planned, exactly as it does each year.
Out on the course, again, the scene was similar to previous marathons, while at the same time serving as an opportunity for spectators and runners to vent a year's worth of pent-up emotion.
There were countless signs alluding to the tragedy, mostly variations on the familiar "Boston Strong" saying that has been the city's rallying cry. There also were poignant reminders of the tragedy. On the side of the road at the one-mile mark, there was a tree made from running shoes donated from last year's race. More than one runner had printed memorials on their running clothes. On the back of the shirt of one runner were the words, "In memory of the victims of the 117th Boston Marathon."
The scene at the finish line was both similar to past years and different due to increased security measures. Exhausted runners crossed the finish line on Boylston Street and were greeted by volunteers who handed out medals, food, drink and warming blankets. Runners then searched for friends and family members on nearby streets as in past years, but were then ushered about a half-mile past the finish line to Boston Common, where they picked up personal belongings and then dispersed to celebrate their achievement.
The 118th Boston Marathon was a personal journey as well as a collective one for all runners. Preparing for a marathon requires months of training, a commitment that forces other priorities to take a back seat. Each runner arrives at the starting line with their own expectations and goals, but for every runner, this year's Boston took on a dual purpose, as 39,000 runners ran as one.
In the end, this year's Boston Marathon ended up being a lot like the ones that preceded it, and that is exactly what was supposed to happen. Boston woke up to Patriot's Day, the Red Sox played their morning home game at Fenway, thousands of runners took to the streets to run from Hopkinton into Boston, and many more than that lined the streets to cheer the runners on.
Indeed, statements of support for the runners and for the city were everywhere, signs that set this year's race apart from past years. But ultimately, the strongest statement was made by just showing up again. There was no mending the heartbreak, but the scar tissue that formed over the wound has made a tough city even tougher.
The city of Boston showed its defiance by reclaiming their marathon. This perhaps, is the ultimate way to honor those injured and killed by those who would seek to impose an ideology of nothing more than terror. With countless acts of determination and courage, Boston took back their finish line.