As I approached the last few days before returning to run the Boston Marathon after last year's tragedy, I prepared myself for it to be a very emotional and potentially somber event. I was anticipating some tears, and obvious sadness in remembrance of those who died and those seriously injured. And I welcomed those possibilities with open arms; hoping the sharing of feelings would be healing for most people affected.

While on the plane heading into Beantown, I sat next to a 40-year-old woman who had been trying to qualify for years; AND she was a bone marrow cancer survivor; AND Ft. Wayne's Woman Of The Year due to the fundraising efforts she gave to the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. She was an inspiring woman. And that's where my Boston Marathon journey began this year.

I was excited to have my husband join me for his first time in this city, as I knew he would love it. I have always told him about the culture of Boston, but it's hard to understand it exactly until you experience it for yourself. Bostonians are the most proud, loyal and patriotic people I have ever met. They LOVE their city and are so happy (not annoyed like some other city's locals) that you come to visit. It is clear given the random race shirts, running shoes, etc. who is running the marathon and I had at least a dozen of people stop me on the street to say "Good luck!" or "My, I could never do that. . . go get em!" It's as if the Boston Tourism Department planted these people all over the city to make you feel welcome, although they didn't. ;) They just love their city with a passion (and their Red Sox clothing).

The day of the race approached and here come the nerves AND the emotion. It was hard to believe it had already been a year since I was picking up my gear bag at the finish when the bombs exploded and I hadn't been reunited with my sister who had also ran. A swarm of feelings came over me as I headed onto the bus toward the start line in Hopkinton Mass. "Here goes." I thought. Next thing you know I met a gal from Michigan and another from Utah and we chat the entire time about our hobbies, jobs and lives. One of them actually used to live in Carmel. . . small world! Once at the pre-start location, runners are waiting to start, sleeping in the grass, drinking coffee, and waiting in endless porto-potty lines. Before you know it, my "wave" was called to the start line and we all walked down the tiny road to the famous start line. This was my first year without my sister (although she was there to spectate) so I was a lot more "alone" as I waited to start which wasn't a bad thing; just new for me.

The gun sounded and we were off! This is a beast of a course and if you don't respect it and run it smart it can chew you up and spit you out. The down hills and up hills are timed "just right" to destroy your legs so hopefully the previous months of hill training would pay off for me. And to boot, the field is extremely fast so starting out too quickly is easy to do.

As I ran along the course in the first six miles, I noticed all of the familiar sights from the previous three times I have ran. People on their lawns grilling out, drinking beer, cheering on runners, and celebrating their Patriots Day holiday just as they always have. And here come the crazy Wellesley College girls!!! These ladies are screaming like crazy begging sweaty runners for kisses, which many, many receive. Although I almost get tripped or knocked over by male runners scooting to the sidelines to get a smooch, it is probably my favorite mile (halfway!); and I forgive the guys. . . probably on their bucket list. And I plan to give a kiss next year. Why not?!

Shortly after that I saw Team Hoyt, the father and son duo (son Rick has cerebral palsy and his father Dick pushes him in a wheelchair). This year is their last of 37 consecutive Boston Marathons; last year was supposed to be their last but they had to come back to finish what they started! I also passed by several other runners that were running on crutches; WOW! And other paraplegic runners. I saw people running who ran last year that had family members who were spectating that lost legs. The crowds, which are already amazing, were going NUTS this year.

At mile 18-21 you run up 4 large hills; the last of which is the infamous Heartbreak Hill. Crowds cheer with vigor to get you up it, the street is covered in sidewalk chalk encouraging you to stay strong, kids pass out popsicles and orange slices and you just feel such a surge of energy with their support.

When I took that last left turn onto Boylston Street less than a block from the finish line I turn my head to see a small, simple, yet beautiful and touching memorial to the four people killed in the bombings. Crossing the finish line, volunteers scramble to give you medals, food and clap and congratulate you while you walk gimpy to find your family. That moment was surreal of course due to the fact I was in the same spot just a year ago; all of the emotions running to the finish line etc. And Okay I was WAYYYYYY sore!

On the subway heading back to the hotel we met a sweet older couple; Lifetime Bostonians. They were heading home from their day of spectating and congratulated me on finishing. My sister asked them who they were there to cheer on. They looked at her a bit perplexed and answered "Everyone. Every year." That about sums it up.

My point in telling you these little snapshots of my experience is that this tragedy, while never forgotten, will NEVER bring down the spirit of Boston, the marathon and Patriots Day. Not fear or anything else can keep people away from coming out to run or cheer. The spotlight wasn't on sadness as I originally suspected; rather on happiness, positivity and perseverance. Yes, it was emotional as I expected but on strength, joy and love. You cannot mess with Boston and the amazing resilience of Bostonians. Boston STRONG! 😄