by Erin Woodrow
I stood there in awe, teeth chattering, legs plastered in mud like paper maché. Moments before, we had been ushered off yellow school buses, herded like cattle and directed to wait in large fields until our “waves” were called. People wrapped themselves in garbage bags and lay on the ground huddled close together, trying to stay warm. There were no cell phones to be found, little laughter filled the air and friendly exchanges were few. The freezing temperatures, torrential rains and heavy winds made warmth hard to find and spirits even harder to lift. There was, however, a smell of excitement in the air and an energy that even the strong winds couldn’t tame. Continue reading “Boston Marathon 2018”