We consider this site our happy place — a small sanctuary from life’s messes and a record of moments we’ll be glad to remember later. That’s why I hesitated to write about the Boston bombings here; they are about as far from happy as anything can be.
Still, two days before I ever imagined that running a race could end in tragedy, I took part in one. Last Saturday I ran Richmond’s 10K, an event USA Today ranks alongside major marathons. Forty thousand people and I ran 6.2 miles up and down our city’s most iconic street. It was my 12th consecutive time running this race, and I was excited to share the experience here like I did last year.
Monday’s events have left me shaken — as a person, as a runner, and as someone who loves Boston — but I wanted to offer a reminder of the joy, camaraderie, and accomplishment found on race day. There is an amazing amount of love on days when thousands of runners fill a city’s streets, and that spirit felt important to hold onto.
My family was part of those thousands in Richmond. Eight of us ran. My dad has run with me for ten years now (not always side by side — he’s faster). My sisters Carrie (pink shirt) and Katie (blue) joined, and Katie and my brother-in-law Martin traveled from New York City. My cousin Brenna and her son Tyler came up from Northern Virginia. In the middle of the group was my 12-year-old niece Olivia, running her first 10K. We didn’t all start or finish together, but the whole day felt like a family event.
We also had relatives on the sidelines cheering. Sherry, my sister Emily, and my mom volunteered to watch Clara and her three young cousins — Emanuel, John, and Ben — while the rest of us ran past. They kept the kids entertained and made sure we had smiling faces to look for on the course. That’s real dedication.
When I came by, all four kids were calmly sitting in their strollers, waving cowbells and probably wondering where everyone was headed. Maybe they were waiting for ice cream.
The look on my face in this shot is the look of someone who’s run nearly four miles and just got an incredible boost from seeing his wife and child on the curb. PS: note the crowd of runners approaching the turnaround on the other side of the street behind me.
Later, Sherry captured a picture where I noticed Clara had picked out a special outfit to cheer me on: a “Rad Like Dad” shirt and a neon tutu that matched my shirt — which she helped me choose the night before. What a girl. Maybe one day she’ll run with me.
It was a memorable day for our family. I’m grateful to everyone who cheered — family and strangers alike — and to the people who organize events like this. Races do wonderful things for individuals, athletes, and communities, and I hope that same sense of community can help as we process and heal from this week’s tragedy.
PS: If you’re looking for ways to help or show support for Boston, many running publications and local organizations have compiled suggestions and resources.