During the morning, I was designing some nuclear related structures on my left monitor and following the live coverage of the marathon on the right other, you know, that monitor that nobody can see from the corridor.
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| Project Manager's Cubicle. Note the live coverage of the women's race on his right monitor. |
I've seen marathons on TV when I was a kid, or even recently during the London 2012 Olympic Games and to be honest, I've never had the smallest interest for it. It's a bit like watching the Tour de France without being a cyclist yourself, it is incredibly boring except for watching the gorgeous landscapes of the countryside. But now that I am actually training (or, at least, planning to train) for a marathon, the angle is quite different. There is something fascinating watching these human beings cruising at 13mph for 2 hours in an aerobic state when you know you can barely withstand at 10-minute 10mph run in an anaerobic state. Agreed, these people are professional and spend hours a day training; agreed, they are probably unable to invert a 2x2 matrix; agreed, they probably can't beat the Level 8 of Android Chess Free. But guess what, they actually do much more than that: they are the technological showcase of humankind and what's more, in one of the oldest "sport" practiced by homos. And I'm not only talking about the 2h10min finishers, I'm talking about anybody that with great efforts have managed to push their body beyond their "design capacity". Have you thought about that, Messrs. Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev? Have you thought about that when you meticulously packed nails and metal shrapnel into a pressure-cooker bomb?
So, nobody bothered me this morning and I could see Lelisa Desisa & Rita Jeptoo finishing the marathon. I was also heavily texting my girlfriend who was watching and cheering for friends at mile 24. Yeah, she "luckily" had the day off. The week off, actually.
Then, around 3pm, I received this text message from her:
I first thought it was a minor incident like a generator explosion; I wasn't too concerned. Especially because my girlfriend is an idiot (by the way, she typed that). A few minutes later, everybody in the office was talking about it so I checked out Twitter and when I read "hundreds injured" and saw the pictures. It was then when I realized something major was happening.
Within an hour, I had calls from all over the world from my family, and emails/facebook messages from friends to check whether I was OK. Most of them actually thought I was running the marathon. Well, I kinda wished I could qualify for it, i.e. running it under 3h05min, since running for charity is not an available option to me (remember? "Not for impoverished children in Africa. Not for cancer. Not for AIDS." That's part of the blog description). Nevertheless, I'm glad so many people checked on me. Not THAT many, giving it second thoughts...
Meanwhile, my beloved girlfriend ran to her friend's place that's only 5 minutes away from the "crime scene". Mobile network were shut down in Boston so we had to communicate via the good ol'internet and Skype. She was very shocked by what happened. What made it even worse was the perfection of the day that took place int he morning. It was a sunny day and she was for the first time getting REALLY excited about this marathon project of mine, saying unheard of things like "you're gonna do so well!", "I have ideas for your t-shirt!", "I will make the best movies!". She was also having a blast encouraging other runners like "Steve", who was close to be hitting the wall, and was able to continue running thanks to her cheering. On the phone, she was describing how there was no race, no religion, no language: everybody helped each other as they were family members. "I'm so proud of humanity today" she told me. But Messrs. Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev decided to ruin this grande family reunion.
After work, I went and picked her up at the BU bridge, to bring her to a safe place. My place. Just a few blocks away from 410 Norfolk St, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Where the killer lives.
The day after, Tuesday, I took off to Florida for vacation. Surprisingly, the Logan Airport was not too much of a shitshow and the flight was only delayed half an hour. Not too bad for the day after a terrorist attack.
Thursday night, I was partying in Duval St, Key West, FL like the world was ending. At 2 AM, I came back to my room with my girlfriend and found ourselves intoxicated by both the extremely sensationalized news on CNN and the 15 pina coladas we had drank over the past 2 hours. The breaking news shockingly read: "Police officer killed at MIT." Needless to say, I didn't bang my girlfriend that night.
Friday, we woke up to a multitude of annoying text messages from friends asking about our safety. (And when I say "our", I actually mean "her." I'm a dickhead and no one cares about my well-being). CNN informed us that all of Greater Boston was in lockdown and most importantly, we learned that the young fucker, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, lived on Norfolk St. in Cambridge. Literally five minutes walking from my place. We've probably crossed paths many times.
Let me summarize why this whole thing is a mind-fuck of epic proportions:
1. The attack happened at a marathon, a showcase of humanity, and it's been on my mind 70% of the time since February.
2. An MIT police officer was slain at MIT, where I purchased my diploma. I mean, where I graduated.
3. The terrorist who concealed bombs and explosives in his basement, lives an uneasy thousand feet away from my domicile.
This is uncomfortably CLOSE. Way TOO CLOSE.
Now mind you, I registered for the Boston "Run to Remenber" months ago...but it seems like the race will not be what I initially expected for two reasons. Reason uno is because this 1/2 marathon has experienced a rapid increase of registrations because everybody wants to make "Boston Strong" by showing the world they are not afraid.
I'm sure race will have spirited attention from the media, too (unless they find some political scandal that they can overdramatize in the meantime). Reason deux is more personal: as of today, I have not fully recovered from my tendonitis and I'm having a hard time running just 3 miles at a slow pace. And this half-marathon is only one month away. Double-challenging. Double-fucked. Can't wait to see the national news footage of me absolutely struggling to make it through just 6 miles on repeat.
Well, as for now, we'll have to see how I do this Sunday in my meager, lowly 5k (which I'm pathetically aiming to complete in a whopping 40 minutes).
Whatever. I'm going to eat a Fiber One bar and shit my brains out.
Then, around 3pm, I received this text message from her:
I first thought it was a minor incident like a generator explosion; I wasn't too concerned. Especially because my girlfriend is an idiot (by the way, she typed that). A few minutes later, everybody in the office was talking about it so I checked out Twitter and when I read "hundreds injured" and saw the pictures. It was then when I realized something major was happening.
Within an hour, I had calls from all over the world from my family, and emails/facebook messages from friends to check whether I was OK. Most of them actually thought I was running the marathon. Well, I kinda wished I could qualify for it, i.e. running it under 3h05min, since running for charity is not an available option to me (remember? "Not for impoverished children in Africa. Not for cancer. Not for AIDS." That's part of the blog description). Nevertheless, I'm glad so many people checked on me. Not THAT many, giving it second thoughts...
Meanwhile, my beloved girlfriend ran to her friend's place that's only 5 minutes away from the "crime scene". Mobile network were shut down in Boston so we had to communicate via the good ol'internet and Skype. She was very shocked by what happened. What made it even worse was the perfection of the day that took place int he morning. It was a sunny day and she was for the first time getting REALLY excited about this marathon project of mine, saying unheard of things like "you're gonna do so well!", "I have ideas for your t-shirt!", "I will make the best movies!". She was also having a blast encouraging other runners like "Steve", who was close to be hitting the wall, and was able to continue running thanks to her cheering. On the phone, she was describing how there was no race, no religion, no language: everybody helped each other as they were family members. "I'm so proud of humanity today" she told me. But Messrs. Tamerlan and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev decided to ruin this grande family reunion.
After work, I went and picked her up at the BU bridge, to bring her to a safe place. My place. Just a few blocks away from 410 Norfolk St, Cambridge, Massachusetts. Where the killer lives.
The day after, Tuesday, I took off to Florida for vacation. Surprisingly, the Logan Airport was not too much of a shitshow and the flight was only delayed half an hour. Not too bad for the day after a terrorist attack.
Thursday night, I was partying in Duval St, Key West, FL like the world was ending. At 2 AM, I came back to my room with my girlfriend and found ourselves intoxicated by both the extremely sensationalized news on CNN and the 15 pina coladas we had drank over the past 2 hours. The breaking news shockingly read: "Police officer killed at MIT." Needless to say, I didn't bang my girlfriend that night.
 |
| "I'm sick of this! These marathons are ruining my sex life." |
Friday, we woke up to a multitude of annoying text messages from friends asking about our safety. (And when I say "our", I actually mean "her." I'm a dickhead and no one cares about my well-being). CNN informed us that all of Greater Boston was in lockdown and most importantly, we learned that the young fucker, Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, lived on Norfolk St. in Cambridge. Literally five minutes walking from my place. We've probably crossed paths many times.
 |
| "No one leave your house all day! We'll take the ban off as soon as it's time for Friday Night Dollar Drafts at Coogan's" -Governor Deval Patrick |
1. The attack happened at a marathon, a showcase of humanity, and it's been on my mind 70% of the time since February.
2. An MIT police officer was slain at MIT, where I purchased my diploma. I mean, where I graduated.
3. The terrorist who concealed bombs and explosives in his basement, lives an uneasy thousand feet away from my domicile.
This is uncomfortably CLOSE. Way TOO CLOSE.
Now mind you, I registered for the Boston "Run to Remenber" months ago...but it seems like the race will not be what I initially expected for two reasons. Reason uno is because this 1/2 marathon has experienced a rapid increase of registrations because everybody wants to make "Boston Strong" by showing the world they are not afraid.
 |
| First T-Shirts, next ass tattoos. |
Well, as for now, we'll have to see how I do this Sunday in my meager, lowly 5k (which I'm pathetically aiming to complete in a whopping 40 minutes).
Whatever. I'm going to eat a Fiber One bar and shit my brains out.
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