Out of the running

Above all:  I am very glad indeed to hear from my Boston friends.  I hope all are well.  My thoughts go out to those--athletes, onlookers, family, and friends--who are not.

And now in my shock I realize that I've always linked this race with feminism.  I remember when the big security issue of the Marathon was women sneaking in to run illegally. We thronged the road at Wellesley, cheering madly, wildly blowing on our horns and conches, dancing like maenads.  A friend's mother was the second ever to win the women's race:  by stealth.  It took her years to get her place in the official record books.  And I happened to be passing a flat screen in 1996 when the unwell Uta Pippig went into hyperdrive.  I remember the look on her face as she turned back--astonishment and exultation--and the blood and shit running down her legs.

Horrible to have those memories overlaid with fear.

Nine

ETA:  The last mile was dedicated to the Newtown victims.  Their families were there.  Dear gods.