Silence.

Typically, this is not what you hear on the day of the Boston Marathon, nor in the days that follow its completion. But in the wake of unspeakable tragedy, this is all that I heard today in my great city. As I walked onto the subway platform at Downtown Crossing this morning, I was struck by the eerie silence I was greeted with.

On any normal day during the rush hour commute, the tracks are abuzz with people shuffling off to work. It’s not uncommon to hear people on their cell phones, loud music blasting from headphones or even people complaining about the crowded cars and lack of seats.

Today, I heard nothing.

As I walked through the crowds of solemn, silent people towards the steps to go upstairs, I caught a glimpse of magnificent sunlight. For a brief moment, I thought that perhaps I was still in the middle of a nightmarish dream and the sunlight was my cue to wake up. Then I saw four armed guards standing patrol at the entrance of the station and everything came crashing back to reality.

Yesterday began as any of the past Marathon Mondays Boston has seen: Runners were preparing to conquer 26.2 of the most celebrated miles in the world of running, spectators were excitedly awaiting the arrivals of their friends and family along the course and race officials, police and medical staff were prepared to offer some minimal crowd support and a throng of Band Aids and Vaseline.

Sidelined from my previous marathon injuries and not able to compete myself, I settled for a long bike ride to the course and positioned myself in a prime viewing location on Beacon Street to await the 50+ people I knew running the race. I took countless pictures of elite runners and friends alike. For all of us out there, running or not, it was as I’ve always referred to the Boston Marathon–26.2 miles of smiles.

Little did I know that all of that would change in mere minutes.

Knowing that most of my friends were getting closer to the finish line and that even more friends were already stationed in the area, I began to head to the finish line to meet up with everyone. What happened next is something I won’t be able to shake for a while. As I was heading into the Boylston area, I had one last turn to make when I noticed a bunch of college students near the curb. One female was clearly having a rough day of partying and was physically sick. Knowing I had two extra bottles of water in my backpack, I stopped to give her one.

Then, for some strange reason that I cannot explain, I decided I’d had enough of the mayhem for one day and turned home instead of continuing to the finish line. When I arrived home, a flurry of calls, texts, emails and FB posts greeted me. Since I had been biking home, I had no clue that two massive explosions had just erupted at the finish line.

The same finish line I had been headed to.

It turns out that had I continued on my way to meet my friends, I would have been in the exact spot that the explosions went off. And pretty much at the exact time the bombs detonated. While I’m clearly fine and my heart literally aches for those who weren’t as fortunate, I’m still wondering what it was that made me turn around. Did some drunken BU student really save my limbs and/or life?

While I’ll never be able to answer that question, I can answer the question of what I plan to do in the wake of such tragic, unfounded hatred.

I’ve just registered for the Legs of Love Marathon (such an apt name) for June 9th in hopes of being able to squeak in one last BQ before the 2014 registration opens. While the time for training is short, my motivation to be part of next year’s Boston Marathon is unending. Throughout the remainder of this week, I’m participating in various runs and events to honor all those affected by yesterday’s incident. Today, I lace up in honor of those still fighting for their lives in hospital beds around the city.

If you look at some of the photos from yesterday’s heartache, don’t focus on the carnage, gore and sadness. Instead, focus on the spirit that lives in each and every one of the first responders, bystanders and neighbors that fled TOWARDS the unthinkable scene unfolding in front of them. Think of the people who put their own lives at risk all in the name of helping others.

The next time you find yourself thinking about Boston, the Boston Marathon or any other distance running event, know that as runners, we bond together and we always get back up. Sick, exhausted, injured or stressed, we always end up back on our feet with running shoes laced up and ready to go again.

And we don’t do this alone.

This post goes out to the innocent souls who were taken from us. It’s for the friends, family, government officials, medical personnel and volunteers who work their asses off every year to make this the spectacular event it’s always been who were thrown into the depths of despair as duty called in a way that nobody could have imagined. It also goes out to the many of my fellow runners who were stripped of their Boston Marathon finish line dream and all those who are hurting in various ways right now (a good friend of mine actually saw those dismembered people lying there in agony).

On Sunday, I ran the BAA 5K and I had the pleasure of completing yet another “Right on Hereford, Left on Bolyston.” Even though it was a 5K, crossing that finish line caused memories of my previous Boston Marathon completions to come flooding back. I can only wish that I’d been able to share the same euphoria with the thousands of runners who were stopped a mere half mile from the finish line.

To all of those impacted by this incident in any way, shape or form, my thoughts and prayers (and miles) go out to you. And to the senseless people who did this, we WILL run. You CAN’T hide.

Please send your thoughts & prayers to Boston!