It's amazing HOW FAST your life can change. On Friday, April 12, 2013, I hopped into my car with one of the world's greatest people, fully loaded with hiking and skiing gear, snacks, and visions of the great Tuckerman's Ravine on our horizon. I had just received a promotion at work that day so a weekend away with some fellow adventure-seekers seemed like the perfect way to celebrate. We drove 4.5 hours north to the mountains, sipped some celebratory champagne, and retired early so we would be fully energized for the big hike the next day.
Early to rise, everyone in the house was eager to hit the trail and enjoy the day. Skis and boards were strategically secured to packs, food and water appropriately rationed to avoid having to carry excess weight, and layers of clothing adorned to avoid the chance of overheating and freezing all in the same trip. We were on our way. Conversations about favorite music, books, and future expeditions helped pass the time as we moved ahead and finally reached the base of the infamous bowl. Go time.
I'm not crazy (or skilled enough) so I didn't hike to the very top like everyone else did. The bottom 2/3 of the bowl offered the right amount of challenge and adrenaline rush for my skill level so I made my home there. I was met with a huge sense of accomplishment, excitement, and a celebratory swig of moonshine at the bottom with the rest of the group before making the trek back to the parking lot. Everyone was floating on the same level of pride for having dominated Tucks and that pride was going to carry us on for a few days (or at least it was having that effect on me).
Fast forward to Monday morning, I awake to greet the day with a very sunburned face and a level of excitement only felt on Marathon Monday! Seriously, it's the only Monday of the year Bostonians are excited about. As a healthcare professional, you normally don't have Marathon Monday (Patriot's Day) off from work (hell...you have to fight for most holiday time off) unless you schedule decades in advance and are granted permission. I got permission and was determined to continue on with my epic weekend, surrounded by friends, in my apartment conveniently located at the finish line of the Boston Marathon.
After cheering the elite runners across the finish line, I started preparing for spending more time outside, cheering for those runners who I find truly inspiring. The runners I can identify myself with. The ones who make me say, "oh, I'm totally running the marathon next year....". Pressed up in my prime location along the barriers, cheering for a few familiar faces as they ran past me, capturing as many photos as my sophisticated iPhone would allow, I was psyched. I love where I live, I'm happy to be back in Boston, this day f**king rocks! High-five to my roommate standing next to me...I'm so glad I'm not at work.
Boom.
(dialogue on the street)
J: What the heck was that?
me: I think that was a bomb.
J: No way, I think it's a ceremonial cannon for Patriot's Day.
me: there's too much smoke...
Within a matter of 10 seconds I was able to have a fully detailed conversation with myself: was that really a bomb, what was I going to do, where is my exit...oh my God! Is the Pru going down next?! Wait...maybe it's not anything to be worried about. Maybe it really is just a cannon and I've been watching too many war movies...
BOOM (on our block)
At this point, everything plays out in slow motion. It's loud, it smells, and I can feel the blast. Not strong enough to knock me over, but its presence was felt. Definitely a bomb. Ok. I'm not hurt. Are there more? People screaming. People running. Will this trashcan or mailbox here next to me be the next to blow? I should probably put my snack plate on the ground and run away (seriously...I was concerned about this for a second). Running. Wait...is anyone hurt? WHERE ARE MY FRIENDS? I'm turning back! I can help!
I ran back to the barricade, towards the firemen and police officers who were quick to respond, and was told to "get out of here! I don't even want to be here. Seriously! This is real! RUN!". But my friends...I know they are further ahead, I just spoke with them, they aren't answering their phones. Are they alive? Breathe. I then spotted two familiar faces and ran to greet them. An incredible sense of momentary relief. Ok...where are the others?
We all ran upstairs to my apartment, greeted by faces of those guests who weren't completely sure about what had just happened outside. Not completely sure why I couldn't control my emotions as I frantically glanced around for another hopeful sign that everyone was ok. Wait...did two bombs seriously just rock my neighborhood? I wanted my family. I wanted this to be fake.
I still want it to be fake. Phone calls were made, texts responded to, and guests left my home...able to leave and go back to their quiet neighborhoods. Away from what had happened that day. I didn't sleep Monday night. The 25 officers, snipers, and Army National Guard stationed on my street weren't enough. Was something else going to blow up while I was sleeping? I couldn't switch gears in my mind. Relax.
The next morning, I was escorted from my door, through various checkpoints, down to my car and proceeded to go to work. Trying to get back to my normal routine. I was hoping work would be a distraction and I'd be fine. Keep myself busy to avoid replaying the explosions over and over and over in my head. It didn't work. I couldn't stop crying. Screw this, I'm going to see my family.
My sister has never hugged me so tightly and my mother couldn't stop shaking after showing her pictures I took that captured the first explosion. I found comfort in their company, away from my apartment, enjoying McDonald's fries and a Blizzard from DQ. Very American. My father is away on business and can't get home soon enough to receive the gigantic hug I have saved up for him. I love my family.
I went for a run around my neighborhood yesterday, followed by a walk around the places I'd normally visit while running errands. A UPS truck backfiring outside of CVS made me jump back, providing a reality check on my nerves. It's going to take a while to regain a sense of safety and security, especially when my uniformed guardians leave my doorstep. It will become easier to drown out the images in my mind each time someone asks, "how are you doing?"...I just need to be patient. Physically, I'm fine. Emotionally, it's going to take time.
Everyone will react to this tragedy in a different way. This is how I'm reacting. I've never been more grateful for those friends and family in my life who are providing support and allow me to handle this in my own way. Because I can give them, be ready for some great big KZak hugs the next time I see you. Tuckerman's Ravine and a terrorist attack in the same weekend? Bring it...I'm an incredibly lucky woman who can't wait to continue to embrace all that life brings me.
Boston Strong.
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