Today marked the one year anniversary of the 2013 Boston Marathon that went wrong. It was my first Marathon. This evening I was in COM editing my report of the year anniversary tribute that was held at Hynes Convention Center. The ceremony was attended by VP Joe Biden, survivors and the men and women who were on the scene and helped that day. While I was editing I was watching clips from speakers at the event. I heard survivors who have lost legs say how blessed they were for all the support they have received and asked for people wanting to help, to reach out and help out others in need in your community. I heard many share with pride how incredible the strength of this country and its people is. While going through the footage, my phone buzzed and I saw that a classmate/colleague of mine tweeted out: A year ago today, almost to the hour, I learned who Carlos Arredondo is thanks to @dailyfreepress & @MelissaAdan_. I thought to myself— damn, he’s right. I was emotional and clicked the next speech, it was that of Patrick Downes where he shares how proud he is to be a Bostonian. His last words, left me sobbing in the edit lab. The impact that the Boston Marathon of 2013 has on me is huge. You see, because I remember exactly a year ago at about the time I was crying in the edit lab is when I was sitting in my former dorm room, very focused, editing my report of the Boston Marathon tragedy and sharing my interview with Carlos— someone who today was recognized by the Vice President as a man who ran to danger and helped in a time of crisis. I met Carlos on the street that afternoon, unexpectedly with my friend and then colleague Seline Jung. Had it not been for the way Carlos spoke, the accent I am all too familiar with— the one that reminds me of my father’s. Had it not been for what I heard, would I have not begun speaking Spanish and captured his attention. I met him with the best intentions and he clearly saw that because I still wonder why he stopped to talk. And it’s easy to conclude that the man who helps, just doesn’t stop helping. I took a moment to wipe my tears and let that moment sink in for me. Forever in my heart and memory is this event, marked for me with the experience as a young journalist. During those weeks that lay ahead last year’s battle finally one day brought so much aid to my heart… and that was one of my favorite posts I’ve ever written: Why meeting Anderson Cooper was not the highlight of my night. So, as I proceeded to respond to my classmate’s tweet and finally dried off my cheeks, I will never lose sight of how much this day impacted me. And I find myself a year later spending another late evening working on a story (The Globe said it best) I wish would have never happened.
Here’s my story: