#BostonStrong.

AuthorWayashe, Jessica
PositionAlumni NEWS

Maybe it was the guy in the cheeseburger costume trudging past me on Heartbreak Hill.

It could have been the women running side by side in superhero capes, or the people guiding blind friends and family members toward the finish.

Whatever it was, the energy I felt in the midst of the 2013 Boston Marathon was unlike any rush I've experienced. That's despite my time sprinting for High Point University track, working with a Major League Soccer team, and attending numerous New England Patriots games--all adventures that are pretty hard to beat.

I trained in the cold for months to slash this dream off my bucket list. As a Charity Runner, I raised $4,000 before the race, a challenge I was confident in thanks to my experience raising funds for Kappa Delta at HPU and our philanthropies. It felt like my day to shine.

But my excitement began to fade around mile 23, not long after I passed my dad, brother and grandmother cheering me on from the sidelines. As I headed closer to Boston, I saw staff ushering runners to the sidewalk. I was running 10:16 miles on average ... There's no way I was so slow that they began cleaning up before I even finished, right?

At the medical tent at 24.5 miles, they told me I couldn't go any farther. When I finally found out what happened, my first thought was this: My family is waiting for me at the finish line.

I waited at a synagogue that took runners in to feed us and keep us warm for three hours until a bus returned us to the Boston Common. As we got off the bus, I spotted my father and jumped in his arms and cried. I was thankful that my family was OK, yet angry that someone could cause so much hurt at the place where athletes were supposed to experience so much joy.

Shortly after the...

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