by Erin Croley

Last Monday, I watched Meb Keflezighi’s last three miles of the 2014 Boston Marathon on the edge of an ottoman in front of the television in my St. Louis home while my kids ate breakfast in the next room. 

As Wilson Chebet fought to close the gap between himself and Meb, I absolutely refused to imagine any alternative to Meb’s victory. I cheered as loudly as if I was there in person, shouting encouragements with tears (where did they come from?) spilling over at the same time. 

Before that morning, I hadn’t really thought about the elites running the race. I thought about the memorial events and gestures, the crowd, the average Joe runners like me crossing the finish line after being stopped short last year, and the victims from the April 15, 2013 bombings finding hope and strength in running or cheering on the runners this year. 

by Andy Croley

One year ago today, tragedy struck the running community. An act of cowardliness harmed many along Boylston Street. But the acts of heroism that occurred moments later are those that make us proud as a country, as human beings, and as runners.

On April 15th, 2013, I sat in my office in a small Oregon High School attached to the news reports streaming live from Boston. My heart sinking. My eyes tearing. Although I was 3,000 miles away, it was evident that my running family had changed instantly. 

Ten days later, my wife and I arrived in Monterey, California for the 2013 Big Sur International Marathon. The exhibit hall was filled with runners, over 500, who were part of the Boston to Big Sur Challenge. Spending most of my time listening, and admittedly eavesdropping, I was blown away by the stories from those who were at the finish line, in the crowd, and still on the course during the bombing.