Boston Marathon 2013: The New Normal

One of the hallmarks of terror is the shear unexpectedness of it.

On the morning of September 11, 2001, I was sitting in our den with my then-2-year-old son Joey. I think we were watching a Clifford The Big Red Dog cartoon on TV. Not sure. This was in the infancy of the Internet (I think we still had a dial-up connection) and certainly well before Social Media. I received a phone call from a friend who said to turn on Channel 4. Something about a plane crash into a NYC skyscraper. You know the rest of the story. That was a normal, cookie-cutter September day: Perfect sunshine, a Tuesday, a normal day, the type of day we've experienced a thousand times before and since.

This afternoon could not have been a more normal Monday in April. I was at the Spackenkill High School track, timing some athletes through an interval workout. An unremarkable workout on an unremarkable day. I couldn't even complain about the weather. It was a nice day for April or any month. This was a normal, cookie-cutter day in our outdoor track season. But then my cell phone started buzzing and ringing with calls and texts. We don't quite know the rest of the story yet, about what unfolded at the Boston Marathon this afternoon. But it's not good. It will never be the same.

It will never be the same. In these days and in these times, this is the New Normal. For our athletes and those younger than them, they have grown up in this Age of Terror; this is their new normal. The list of unspeakable tragedies grows. This one hits home as no other. This one was centered around our world, the marathon and the runners and the celebration of all that is good in our sport.

My phone has been buzzing and ringing all day and all night. Is everyone from our Marist Running Family OK? As far as we can tell ... YES. On the front lines of it all was our very own Pat Deedy, a junior XC runner and athletic training major who was working the medical tent at the Boston Marathon finish line. This was supposed to be a great day for Deedy. He's a runner and an aspiring athletic trainer, and he is from the outer Boston suburbs. I have spoken with Deedy twice tonight. He is OK. Through the grace of God, he and the other Marist AT students avoided harm's way by the narrowest of margins. Collectively, though, we are not OK. We have not been OK for a long, long time. This is the New Normal.

My 2-year-old son from 9/11 is now almost 14. On Friday, he gets Confirmed in the Catholic Church as an adult in God's eyes; he has adult-like traits already now. When I picked him up from track practice today, I told him of the events in Boston. He was surprised but not totally shocked. He asked good questions. He listened intently with me to Mike Francesa on WFAN and later to NPR reports, as I drove his teammates home on the other side of town in our normal, after-practice carpool. He asked more good questions. He remained calm. This is his world, the only one he has known, since that day with Clifford The Big Red Dog up until now. The New Normal: The New Normal that has invaded our running world and has left scars, the likes of which we still cannot even yet fathom.