Yesterday my friend Laura asked me if I had been to Boylston Street yet. I told her I didn’t want to go, seeing it on the news was enough. But when I was thinking about where to run this morning, the only real choice was to do a quick run around my school so I could get back to studying. I could have ran straight through the Common, or maybe go right and weave around Chinatown, or I could have gone left toward Boylston. I went left.
There were three or four police dogs with policemen going up and down Boylston Street. Cops gathered at every intersection. The media and people had huddled together at the corner of Arlington and Boylston. I couldn’t really catch what they were doing, I didn’t want to stop running.
One block up at Berkley and Boylston the street was barricaded. My friend Craig took a shot with his phone yesterday.
Today, I just ran by and snapped what I could. A lot of people and cameras were congregated at the barricade, but it was too sad for me to stop for long.
The New York Times has corroborated a young man from my suburban hometown, Chelmsford, MA, lost both his legs in the blast. I didn’t know him, but social media tells me we have a few friends in common. His name is Jeff Bauman, and when I am at my parent’s house in Chelmsford this weekend, I am going to run for him.
Two runs down, 363 to go.