First-Hand Account of the Boston Bombings from a Waukesha Runner

A first-hand account of the Boston Marathon bombings from a Waukesha man who finished the race before the attack. 

By Sean Luedke

I’ve experienced terrorist attacks and tragedy before. We all have; it's becoming a more common part of our lives. I watched the World Trade Center towers fall; the televised images of people jumping out of windows is still burned in my mind. I watched attacks on London trains, Mumbai hotels, United States embassy’s, and soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq. There’s also been more local events, including the mass shootings at the Shikh Temple in Oak Creek and Azana Spa in Brookfield, WI. Boston was different, though. 

The timing was two hours after I ran down Boylston Street, potentially in front of the same victims and the perpetrators. Why the attacks occurred at 2:50 and not 12:47 I’ll never know. The location, the finishing straight of the Boston Marathon, I hold with such reverence that I refused to walk it or photograph it prior to the race. I had to earn that right by running the 26 miles prior. And upon finally earning that opportunity on Monday I was filled with tremendous joy; even letting out a small, and very uncharacteristic, fist pump and smile crossing the line. The people injured were members of a tightknit community known as marathon runners and those who came to watch 27,000 of us achieve a dream.

Today marks one week since those tragic events and my feeling of anger has subsided and has been replaced with gratefulness that my best friend and my wife (both of whom were traveling with me) were unharmed, and gratitude to the amazing people of Boston and all the law enforcement who put their lives on the line to protect the rest of us. At the same time, I’m filled with concern for those injured or killed and their families. As my writing this attests too, I’m also still filled with anxiety. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what happened. I constantly check the news for new developments and fear that another bomb went off someplace else. When I hear sirens I momentarily freeze up and remember the sights and sounds of Boston in the aftermath. My mind continues to race with unanswered questions: Why? Who else knew? Were there others involved? Was this just an opening salvo?

The anxiety won’t win out though. It will subside and a sense of normalcy will return, because in the end I’ve seen the greatness of America and the world.  Just as told in countless children’s stories, Evil might appear to be stronger and more powerful, but in the end the Good always win. Boston highlighted this, from people opening their doors to strangers in need of a shoulder to cry on and a bed, to students walking the streets of Boston offering fresh cookies to law enforcement as a thank you, to the crowd at TD Garden collectively singing the National Anthem prior to the Boston Bruins’ game. The will of the Good is greater than the power the Evil.

So it is that I look forward with excitement and anticipation to running down the finishing straight on Boylston Street for the second time next April. My legs will hurt with every step, my body wanting nothing more than to stop. I won’t stop though. While running towards the finish I’ll shift my focus over to my left at where the explosions occurred, but only for a moment. Then I’ll look back to the finish line, a place that is even more sacred than it was prior to the attacks, and I’ll give it everything I’ve got. 27,000 others will do the very same that day, and the Good will again prove its superiority.