Sixty-two Colorado runners started the Boston Marathon on Monday, but never made it to the finish line. Margaret Shugrue of Arvada was less than a mile from the finish when the explosions occurred.
“I know you are capturing some of these stories — mine is one filled with anxiety, disappointment and relief. I was running Boston for the second time. I had considered dropping out of the race after sustaining a knee injury just the week before while skiing at Copper. I had cursed myself for skiing so close to the race, but I didn’t want to live life in a bubble. With the pain of my injury, I had no business running a 5K much less a marathon, but it was Boston!
I had planned the trip with my two daughters, ages 15 and 9. I loved this city and was planning to enjoy the trip and some mother daughter time. My oldest daughter had traveled with me last year and knew the subway route to meet me at the finish from Cambridge where we were staying. I had a decent first half. I felt pain but pushed through and enjoyed the incredible crowd support. I even took the time this year to slap the kids hands and thank the crowds for coming.
The second half proved to be a different story. I knew this part of the course was excruciating through the Newton Hills and my knee was not happy. In fact, I could tell I was compensating for my knee because other parts of my legs were experiencing pain I had never before endured in my entire running career. I battled the hills, walked more than I liked, and started to cruise for the final 5 miles into the city. I passed the famous Citgo sign and started to feel proud that I had endured so much pain yet was going to finish this race, even if my time was disappointing.
I crossed the “1 Mile left marker” with the crowds thickening as I was headed on the homestretch to Boylston. Just exiting the Mass Ave tunnel to emerge before heading south on Heresford, the police unexpectedly stopped the runners and explained that there had been an explosion. We had heard a large boom and white smoke, but your brain at this phase is a bit foggy and you are incapable of worrying about much of anything except finishing. But with news of an explosion, and realizing that my girls had been tracking my race and were aware I had passed the 40K so they were heading to the finish line nearly paralyzed me. I had no phone. Other runners who were stopped shared their devices with those of us who didn’t have phones, but few could get through to anyone with the shut down circuits. Panic set in. The police were just holding us with no definitive plan.
Finally, which seemed like forever, they announced the race had been cancelled. The severity of the situation became all too apparent and my stomach turned wondering what was going on and where were my girls! Stunned knowing my pack of runners was literally at the end of this race but wouldn’t have the satisfaction of crossing the finish line, no one even for a minute showed signs of the injustice of training without the chance to finish — we just wanted to locate our loved ones. The police directed us to some circuitous route to retrieve our race bags and it felt eerie walking through the streets of lovely Boston with police and ambulance sirens piercing the air. I was incredibly sore and tired and just had to keep walking. I just needed my race bag to call my girls.
After 45 minutes from the time we were stopped, I finally reached the bus to get my race bag and quickly pulled out my phone, but the police shuffled those of us sitting on the street away. I was headed in the direction of Boston Commons, a place I had suggested we meet in the event we couldn’t find each other after the race. Despite all the crowded streets, I turned my head and spotted my daughter’s coat and cried out to them both.
You cannot imagine the relief and the tears that coupled the hugs. But the best part is the stranger who helped them during that time of uncertainty. They had entered a flower shop near the finish line to get me flowers. They knew I was getting close. While inside, the explosions went off and everyone started running so they did the same. They ended up emerging on the other side of the buildings and were confused about their location and saw people panicked running everywhere. A woman approached them to help. Incidentally, she was from Golden, CO! This wonderful person stayed with my kids, reassuring them that they would find me and walked them towards Boston Commons. The kids completely credit her with the ability not to jump to conclusions about where I had been when the explosions occurred. I wish I could thank her and repay her again. Her name was Christy and she was watching a friend race. I am indebted to her. So, I found my girls and despite running 26 miles, I didn’t get to finish or get a medal. It’s a bummer. But I am so grateful to have my girls healthy. Seeing accounts on the news make me love this town and the people even more. I will run in tribute to all of them, my heroes.”
Lori Petrie, 50, of Arvada finished the race in 4:08:33, just a minute before the first explosion.
“April 15th was my fifth Boston marathon. This year, my husband and son stayed home from the trip as our son had a track meet. Instead I brought along a friend and a local elite high school distance runner. The plan was for her to run the Boston Marathon 5K, tour the Harvard campus, and watch the marathon. As it turns out, I was very fortunate that I was running Boston injured this year. I knew the second half of the race I was going to have to take it very easy, especially on the hills. My plan was to walk all the up hills to not further injure my ankle. I often say I need to take it easy in a race, but this year I really had to.
One minute and 12 seconds after I crossed the finish line, the first bomb went off close to the finish line. I was being handed a water bottle when it happened. The explosion was so loud and the plume of smoke was huge. We all turned and looked. At first you wanted to believe that it was just a cannon going off for Patriots Day, but we knew it wasn’t. The runner next to me said he was military and that it was a bomb. Shortly after that the second bomb went off. I turned and looked at the second plume of smoke and saw that it was close to where my friends were standing. Just minutes before, as I was finishing the race, coming down Boylston, I located my friends and ran over to them. They were standing close to the Convention Center. At that point I was frantic to find out if they were okay. The race workers were telling us to stay walking forward, not to run. I found a race volunteer and asked her to make a call for me. I called my husband back in Colorado and explained to him that there had been a bomb and that he needed to find out if my friends were okay. There were many heroes that day, but my husband in Colorado was my major hero. We both work for a major airline, and fortunately we have to prepare for emergencies for our jobs. He set up a command center at work and took over.
I was able to make my way forward to the school buses that held our checked race bags. My bag held not only my cell phone and cash, but also a winter coat. After getting my cell phone I tried to call my friends but by then the phone lines were jammed and the call would not go through. I was able to phone my husband and he confirmed that he was able to text my friends and they were safe. They had been standing less than a block from the second explosion. They were trying to get to the family meeting area. However, by then barricades were being put up and emergency vehicles were streaming in. Knowing that meeting up at the family meeting area was not going to happen, I told my husband to tell them to just try and get to the Sheraton hotel and I would try and find my way there. I was thankful I had my winter coat with me as I saw many marathon runners with just the Boston blanket on. I just kept asking folks on the street which way to the Sheraton. I finally found the Copely Plaza and went in and talked to a policeman to see the best way to the Sheraton. He said that they were finding more explosive devices (later found out not to be true) and that the hotels may be evacuated. I quickly let my husband know so he could pass that on to my friends so they would be prepared to leave the hotel and head to safety. You may be wondering why I was not texting my friends. When I did try to text, after running the marathon my fingers were not exactly working well. It was easier to call my husband and have him text them. So they were informed that the hotel may not be a safe area. By this time the bombing was on the news and my husband was also handling all the text messages, emails and calls.
I finally found the Sheraton, walked in and found my friends immediately. Luckily we had already checked out of our room and the bell caption was holding all our bags. As I was walking into the hotel I noticed several pilots from my airline that were standing outside waiting for a pickup to the airport. I’m sure I looked like a homeless person, but I went up to them and explained that I worked for the same company and asked if we could catch a ride to the airport with them. They said that if there was room we could join them. We wanted to get out of the Copley area as quickly as possible since we didn’t know if there would be more bombings. I was especially concerned as I was responsible for a child that had already seen things at the second bombing that no high school child should see. We went and got our bags and went to wait outside. Almost as soon as we stepped outside, a valet said he still had three spots left on a regular van to the airport. We hopped on and left so fast. Sirens were blaring and emergency vehicles were stilling streaming into the area. We were so lucky we left when we did. They ended up blocking more roads and some of the hotels went into lock down and the guests were not allowed to leave the hotel.
We were able to get on a flight at 6:30pm and arrived back in Denver at 10:30pm. Less than 12 hours after the first bombing on Boylston Street, we were back home and I was able to deliver my little high school runner back to her parents. She will never be the same after this. But they way she handled this was amazing. She is a strong person (aren’t all distance runners) and I have a feeling that if she decides she wants to attend Harvard she will not let someone else decide or limit her future.
As for the Boston Marathon, it will only end up stronger. As a recreational runner, I stand in awe at the start line every year of this great race. I was planning on this being my last Boston as I realize so many runners are not able to experience it. However now I know that one day I will be back.”
Alyn Park, 62, of Denver finished her ninth Boston Marathon, second in her age group, in 3:28:11.
“For the first time, the 117th Boston Marathon was started with an airhorn, and not a gun, to honor those children slain in Newtown, CT. The bombings and ensuing tragedies are a cruel irony…. acts of maiming and killing that I cannot put my head around. Marathon runners are “comrades.” The marathon is a sport of goodwill. We lift each other up; we support one another; we do not hurt one another. That spirit will not be broken.
I heard the explosions and watched the event in lockdown from my hotel in the Westin Copley. What I saw, what I heard can be summed up: “Small acts of kindness everywhere. Big acts of bravery.” My heart breaks for the families who have lost lives and limbs.”
Steve Kohuth, 47, of Superior finished in 4:11:44.
“We were at the family meeting area on the other side of the block when the explosions occurred. My race did not go as I had hoped, and I crossed the finish line about an hour after I had anticipated, which is why we were around to hear the explosions. My biggest impressions of the race, other than being so amazed by the spectacle of the whole thing and the huge, enthusiastic crowds, and the efficiency of the response teams, is the extra connection between the runners. I have talked to many other people who ran that morning (we are easy to spot because we are still wearing our Boston gear) about how they are doing, and they tell me about where they were and if they knew anyone who was hurt. Even when just seeing someone in their Boston jacket, there is an unspoken connection when our eyes meet and we smile or nod. I feel like I should wear my Boston Marathon stuff while I am still here in Boston (I was able to get extra time off–we are here as a family since none of us has ever been to Boston) as a support and recognition for the runners who couldn’t finish, the people who were hurt, and the people who died. I have been impressed with Boston and the Boston Marathon.”
Nicholas Fickling, 62, of Edwards finished in 3:26:55.
“I ran Boston with my brother Andrew who lives in London. We finished and were in the sauna of a health club at the finish when the bombs went off. The devastation when we emerged, some 30 minutes after the explosions, was shocking. What was surreal was the change from the thousands of runners, volunteers, spectators and officials when we went into the health club to the total absence of people and equipment apart from emergency workers, emergency equipment and a few officials and the occasional runner like us. It was a rather bizarre ending to what was once glorious and then in an instant became sickeningly awful.”
Emily Horn, 35, from Evergreen finished in 3:49:14.
“This was my first Boston and third marathon. I crossed the finish line in 3:49:14 (from the second wave); went through the area to get water, food, a medal, and a wrap; then proceeded down the street to the bus corresponding to my number to pick up my drop bag. I was walking back towards the finish line to make my way back to my hotel when I heard and felt what seemed like a cannon. Then I saw the smoke. A second explosion happened a few seconds later. Everyone stopped and we honestly speculated that it must be a gas or sewer line. Nobody was saying “bomb” or “terrorist.” As I was moving through the masses to get back to my hotel, the fire trucks and ambulances started coming through, which was difficult with all the streets filled with people.
I commend the BAA, the volunteers, the Boston police, even the MarathonFoto photographers for helping to clear the streets, direct traffic, and get wheelchairs back to the finish line in the setting of what is already a logistical nightmare. I didn’t realize what had happened until I got back to the hotel, where the news was on the big screen TVs in the hotel restaurant and bar. My hotel was in Copley Square, attached to the mall and convention center, which were evacuated and the hotel placed on lockdown. Everyone I was with is okay and we are all glad to be home.”