I've held the tears back until now, my work over and a little time to myself. I carried it through lunch with family, a long ride home after a weekend vacation and a shift at my job, but it's coming now. It's so strange how we go about our insignificant lives in the face of such tragedies.
I first heard about the explosions on twitter around 12:15 here on the West Coast. No amount of Googling could give me answers, but it was soon clear that this wasn't an accident. The news reports started coming in and reporters were saying that had the explosions been an hour earlier, the toll may have been higher as the rush of experienced runners reached the finish line. A silver lining formed in that fewer people were hurt, but there was something else that hit me like a ton of bricks, close to home.
Many of the runners hit or injured were likely to be first time Boston Marathon runners or novices still working on their speed and endurance. It may have been someone's first time completing the race and some may never run another. As a novice runner, this hits close to home. I remember that feeling when I finished my first 5k. That feeling stolen from dozens today. I'm angry for them. I've even thought of revenge, even with no suspects and no one claiming credit for the attack.
Some have tried to post online the fact that more people ran to help the victims than committed the crime. Yet there were bombings in many parts of the world today. How are they so sure of their numbers just because we have great first responders here in the US?
People were also blaming others for caring about the Boston attack and not reporting enough about the other attacks today, using one attack to look down on others on moral superiority. Others used the attack to push their own political agendas even though neither suspect nor motive have been made clear. How am I supposed to feel about my fellow man with this kind of static?
I'm thinking of the families, the horrible scenes posted to twitter and Facebook, the rush of misinformation and ignorance after the attacks and I can't seem to stomach it right now. I'm 3000 miles away and have no way to really help. I guess it's that sense of helplessness that's feeding into this almost existential nihilism. I've been here before, though, and it's passed, so maybe it will again. We have to be better to each other than we are dangerous to each other or we wouldn't have survived as a species, right? Right?
Anyway, I think I'll go to bed now because there's literally nothing I can do at this moment but wait for answers. Goodnight, Humans. Please be good to each other.