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Yesterday I made my friend Suzanne promise to cheer for Kurt Fearnley at the Boston Marathon. Kurt is one of my fave athletes and I usually only get to see him at the Paralympics and Sydney Marathon, so whenever possible I send my friends out to shout inappropriate things at him (he's a bit of all right). I recognise that other people show more respect, but my peer group is more fun.
She was going to be at Mile 25, she told me. I went to bed and woke up early (for me) to check the results. I swtiched on the news at the same time as opening my iPad, and felt a sick horror as the news emerged, relieved only by the knowledge that Suzanne was some distance away, and Kurt would have finished well before, because the rollers are faster than the runners.
Social media once again showed that its true strength is in times of crisis. Suzanne and Kurt had both tweeted that they were fine. Most of my other Boston friends checked in on Twitter or LJ. The only one who hasn't is unlikely to have been there. This many miles away there was nothing I could do except send a few tweets of support and make the traditional donation to the American Red Cross.
Other people used Twitter to better effect. Emma, whose surname I missed, is an Aboriginal runner from somewhere out in the middle of the Northern Territory. She was taken over as part of the Indigenous Running Project last year to run the New York Marathon, and thwarted by Hurricane Sandy. So this year, she made it through injury to be ready for the Boston. But with about 10 minutes left in her race, she found herself caught up in a wave of hurried redirection as the racers were sent away from the end where their friends and their belongings were waiting.
News was piecey and frightening. At what had been the end of the race, her team were being evacuated and frantically trying to track down a young woman whose experience of big American cities mostly consisted of hotels and airports.
But Americans are mostly awesome. Other runners asked Emma where she was from and what they could do for her. They introduced themselves and stayed with her. Race organisers started trying to find her team, locals offered to help her get back to her hotel. Those who had phones put the word out on Twitter and reunited her with her team via social media.
Meanwhile, Suzanne tweeted that while she was shattered, she was also inspired by those emergency workers, military, medical and first aid people who had just run a marathon turn around and run back towards the wounded. She was off to donate blood, because it was something positive that she could do, and she is awesome, too.
Some of the media was dreadful, and some was good. The stories of Bill Iffrig, the 78-year-old runner who fell to the ground near the first explosion and then got up to finish struck a wonderful balance of humanity without schmaltz. His 'stuff em whoever they are' attitude was the only rational response.
And then Carlos Arrondodo, who spends most of his life promoting peace around the country, ran into clouds of smoke and blood and found himself forming makeshift tourniquets for some of the worst injured, and keeping them conscious until the paramedics could take them to hospital.
Most heartening, there was an awful lot of that attitude that some famous thriller author – I think it was Tom Clancy – brought to the CNN coverage after the 9/11 attacks, where he was the voice saying 'Hang on, remember that when things like this happen in America, it's usually because of domestic terrorism.' That attitude is so important, because whoever ends up being responsible, it's vital to remember that terrorism does not come from one ethnicity, it comes from one mindset: the mindset of hatred, and the more we do to divorce ourselves from that way of thinking, the better the world is.
I just don't have any words for the fact that parents from Sandy Hook were at the finish line. The only consolation is the knowledge that everyone around them will be holding them tight.
And because it has been such a grim day,
here is a video of a busy Melbourne tunnel that was closed off so workers could rescue a kitten. In a world where big burly men rescue kittens, there is always hope for a better tomorrow.
She was going to be at Mile 25, she told me. I went to bed and woke up early (for me) to check the results. I swtiched on the news at the same time as opening my iPad, and felt a sick horror as the news emerged, relieved only by the knowledge that Suzanne was some distance away, and Kurt would have finished well before, because the rollers are faster than the runners.
Social media once again showed that its true strength is in times of crisis. Suzanne and Kurt had both tweeted that they were fine. Most of my other Boston friends checked in on Twitter or LJ. The only one who hasn't is unlikely to have been there. This many miles away there was nothing I could do except send a few tweets of support and make the traditional donation to the American Red Cross.
Other people used Twitter to better effect. Emma, whose surname I missed, is an Aboriginal runner from somewhere out in the middle of the Northern Territory. She was taken over as part of the Indigenous Running Project last year to run the New York Marathon, and thwarted by Hurricane Sandy. So this year, she made it through injury to be ready for the Boston. But with about 10 minutes left in her race, she found herself caught up in a wave of hurried redirection as the racers were sent away from the end where their friends and their belongings were waiting.
News was piecey and frightening. At what had been the end of the race, her team were being evacuated and frantically trying to track down a young woman whose experience of big American cities mostly consisted of hotels and airports.
But Americans are mostly awesome. Other runners asked Emma where she was from and what they could do for her. They introduced themselves and stayed with her. Race organisers started trying to find her team, locals offered to help her get back to her hotel. Those who had phones put the word out on Twitter and reunited her with her team via social media.
Meanwhile, Suzanne tweeted that while she was shattered, she was also inspired by those emergency workers, military, medical and first aid people who had just run a marathon turn around and run back towards the wounded. She was off to donate blood, because it was something positive that she could do, and she is awesome, too.
Some of the media was dreadful, and some was good. The stories of Bill Iffrig, the 78-year-old runner who fell to the ground near the first explosion and then got up to finish struck a wonderful balance of humanity without schmaltz. His 'stuff em whoever they are' attitude was the only rational response.
And then Carlos Arrondodo, who spends most of his life promoting peace around the country, ran into clouds of smoke and blood and found himself forming makeshift tourniquets for some of the worst injured, and keeping them conscious until the paramedics could take them to hospital.
Most heartening, there was an awful lot of that attitude that some famous thriller author – I think it was Tom Clancy – brought to the CNN coverage after the 9/11 attacks, where he was the voice saying 'Hang on, remember that when things like this happen in America, it's usually because of domestic terrorism.' That attitude is so important, because whoever ends up being responsible, it's vital to remember that terrorism does not come from one ethnicity, it comes from one mindset: the mindset of hatred, and the more we do to divorce ourselves from that way of thinking, the better the world is.
I just don't have any words for the fact that parents from Sandy Hook were at the finish line. The only consolation is the knowledge that everyone around them will be holding them tight.
And because it has been such a grim day,
here is a video of a busy Melbourne tunnel that was closed off so workers could rescue a kitten. In a world where big burly men rescue kittens, there is always hope for a better tomorrow.
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