“The care we got at the church was A-1. The level of attention could not be raised. The help was extraordinary. The kids from BC were spectacular and in charge. The state and local police, the medics, all awesome. We were given space blankets, drinks, snacks, hot pasta. After a few hours they loaded us all into buses and gave our buses a 10-15 SUV/motorcycle escort to the castle in the darkening hours. The amount of blue lights was surreal.
“On the way back to Boston, streets were closed down for us ahead of time, and we drove on the left side, then the right, then through traffic lights without slowing like a President being rushed out of a war zone. The cars of Boston had been parted and stopped far ahead of us like the Red Sea.
“We were a half a dozen buses of exhausted refugee runners hoping to find our loved ones in Boston, loved ones who were now more like snowflakes in the shaken snow globe called Boston. Every call on borrowed phones had our people somewhere other than where we expected them since everything close to the finish was evacuated. I don’t know the streets of Boston. I doubt the Spaniard or Philadelphian knew either, or the girl from Washington. I could never have walked off and found anyone, especially with the temperature dropping and hardly any clothes on.
“But I knew my husband and people were waiting for me. I hope everyone wrapped in foil blankets still in their running clothes, and four hours after finishing, found their loved ones as they stood in the dark outside the Castle in Boston. I refuse to let our marathon be taken by terrorists. God bless the first responders, the second responders, the doctors, medics, all the staff, all the volunteers from BC, from BAA, from running clubs, from everywhere, and God bless everybody hurt. This was to be my last race, but I’m not quitting anymore. It turned my resign into resolve. I am out of retirement.”