What I Saw at The Finish Line

Item Information

Title:
What I Saw at The Finish Line
Creator:
Astra, Stamatis N.
Date:
April 2013
Format:
Photographs
Location:
Northeastern University Library
Collection (local):
Our Marathon
Series:
Public submissions
Subjects:
Boston Marathon Bombing, Boston, Mass., 2013
Places:
Massachusetts > Suffolk (county) > Boston
Link to Item:
http://hdl.handle.net/2047/D20261748
Terms of Use:
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Contact host institution for more information.
Notes:
Submission text: It was 2:33, one more picture, one more tweet. I managed a coveted spot at the Finish line, at the 4:00:00 mark. I saw people finishing 26.2 miles, people in pain but with a smile. I saw the highest level of motivation and inspiration. I saw parents pushing the carriages of their sick children; they run and push their loved ones. I saw old runners beating their aching knees; I saw all the flags of the world being carried by proud spectators, young and old alike. I saw the charity runners smile as they point into the printed name on their shirt: "For Greg," and "Beat MS". I saw the 5-year-old jump the rails to join daddy and run with him towards the finish line. I saw the family holding the homemade sign, and scream on the top of their lungs, to be heard by their loved one. I saw the highest of the human spirit, keep on keeping on, running and prevailing, despite the uphill course, despite the pain. And at 2:50, I saw smoke, right next to me. I saw jubilation turn to panic. I saw blood, and body parts. I saw mothers hold tight their babies. I saw teenagers crying and seeking their parents in the crowd. I saw courage from the officers running towards the fire. I saw unconditional love as the hurt husband was crying and hugging his loved one covered in blood. I saw the power of all of us getting together, huddling, hugging and helping. I saw the reporters dignifying the victims and giving them space. I saw the dazed runners walking off course, crossing an imaginary finish line for the race they were denied to finish. I saw a toddler hug her mother and innocently ask: "where is the finish line?". I saw evil and terror met with compassion and character. And character won. Life is a marathon. But a marathon is life, despite the death.
Crowdsourced submission originally received via the Our Marathon "Share Your Story" page.
Notes (historical):
Contributor Name: Stamatis N. Astra; Contributor Age: 44; Contributor Gender: Male; Contributor Twitter Account: @photoral; Current Location: 02116