The Boston Athletic Associate announced today that it will contribute $250,000 to The One Fund Boston for Marathon bombing victims' relief.

“We express our deepest gratitude to the B.A.A.’s 1300 medical personnel, 7200 volunteers, and organizing committee, along with the City of Boston’s first responders, who reacted quickly and courageously to save lives,” said Joann Flaminio, B.A.A. President. “Their tireless efforts and their dedication remains with us as we begin to move forward. Our thoughts continue to be with the victims, all of those injured, and their families.”

B.A.A. Executive Director Thomas Grilk said that the organization has seen support and love from the people of the city and continues to think of all those affected by the tragedy.

“As we continue to address matters relating to the 2013 Boston Marathon, we also will begin to turn our attention to the 2014 race," said Grilk.

By Steve Silva, Boston.com Staff

Carlos Arredondo is known around the world as a hero after he rushed in to help victims after the first explosion on Boylston Street during the 2013 Boston Marathon.

But Arredondo also made an impression at the 2012 Boston Marathon when he honored his son, Marine Lance Corporal Alexander Scott Arredondo, who was fatally shot by an enemy sniper while serving in Iraq in 2004.

Check out the 3:07 mark in the video above to see Arredondo cross the 2012 finish line carrying his son Alex's boots from Iraq. It does not appear that he ran the full race, as he is wearing a BAA guest credential in lieu of a bib, and street shorts.

Read more about the man in the cowboy hat who helped rescue Marathon bombing victim Jeff Bauman here.

Jacqueline Palfy Klemond is one of six Boston Marathon entrants testing Polar personal training gear and blogging about it for Boston.com

By Jacqueline Palfy Klemond, Boston.com Correspondent

I don’t think I’ll run another Boston Marathon.

But not for the reasons you might be thinking.

I finished the 2013 race in 3:51, just a little bit before the first explosion at the finish line. I was still in the finisher area, having just picked up my drop bag and talked to my husband, who was lost in the city on his way to the finish line.

I detailed my race experience here, in a quick column I wrote, and then here, for some video for Boston.com.

On Monday, April 15, I was able to do my two favorite things – run a marathon, thankfully, and be a journalist, unfortunately. It was a roller coaster day, with two huge surges of adrenaline. And I was lucky. So, so lucky on Monday in Boston.

Going into the marathon, I was undertrained. So much could have gone wrong on the race course, just related to running. But none of it did. I didn’t “race” the Boston Marathon; a starting-line decision to back down, run easy and just enjoy the event I had worked so hard to be at.

And friends, Boston didn’t disappoint.

I’ve run the Twin Cities Marathon four times, and I’ve always bragged that the crowd support is amazing. But it’s still a course lined with stoic Minnesotans, which I didn’t realize until I ran past the 500,000 screaming, cheering spectators from Hopkinton to Boston.

Terrible things happened on Monday – and through the week for those who live in the area and the rest of us, who watched it unfold on television and Twitter. I don’t aim to discount that or belittle it. But I also don’t want to trivialize the thousands of runners who participated in a historic road race that same day.

Before I made it to the race, I had so many ideas of what it would be like. I imagined the small towns, the stone walls, the New England feel from my few years living in Rhode Island. The speedy, jumpy runners hopping from one foot to the other to keep warm in Hopkinton. The feeling of camaraderie among runners, checking out each others’ bib number – we’re all a bit competitive, or we wouldn’t be here – and then making friendly small talk.

It was everything I hoped it would be. The community. The course – oh, the course. My toes still hurt from slamming into my shoes on the downhills. And how I kept wondering, “Wait, is this Heartbreak Hill?” Until I knew for sure, oh, this is it. (Though I confess that I think the Twin Cities course is harder.) The volunteers – who offered so many hugs that day, in both joy and fear as the day went on.

I’m not a huge fan of all the “Boston Strong” stuff for sale. Maybe because I don’t need a reminder of how strong Boston is. I witnessed it during the race, and I witnessed it after, as I hobbled around as a reporter and interviewed people.

I know that Boston is more than a marathon.

And I think Boston knows that, too.

And now the rest of the country knows it’s both – a city and an event that celebrate endurance, bravery and hard work.

Chris Garges is one of six Boston Marathon entrants testing Polar personal training gear and blogging about it for Boston.com

By Chris Garges, Boston.com Correspondent

Wow.

That's the best way to describe the events of last week. It was not a very productive week and I struggled mentally with the whole thing. I was glued to TV coverage.

”Did they get those bastards?”

“What is the physical state of those injured in the bombings?”

“How are the families coping with the senseless loss of loved ones?"

Here's a little excerpt of an email I had written to a friend who had also run on Monday. The words just flowed all week.

"Part of me wants to say ‘screw you’ to those cowards that did this and in memory of those who were part of the attack, celebrate my 2013 Boston Marathon experience. After all, it was an incredible 26.2 mile race which had so many families, friends and supporters lining the streets. It's not the runners that make the Boston Marathon so special, it's the PEOPLE of Boston. The same people who were attacked for doing what they do so well each day on Patriot's Day."

So I'm finally getting to write down my race report. Any time I write "my" in the same breath as "2013 Boston Marathon" I struggle some more, because it wasn't about me on that day, it's about all of those who lost the innocence of such a heralded celebration. Those injured, those killed and those who were unable to finish, this race report is by no means meant as any form of disrespect to them. It's my attempt to honor them, celebrate the day that was robbed from them and not let those bastards "win".

We woke up to a crisp, beautiful day and by 6:30 our group boarded our bus and headed out to Hopkinton. A fine looking group if I do say so myself!

We hung out at the house, I made my pre-race oatmeal and enjoyed the relaxing atmosphere as I stretched and got my drop bag organized, my gels in place, etc. The nutrition plan was to start with three gels and grab one at mile 17, taking one every four miles starting at mile 12 (16, 20 and 24). My gel of choice is the PowerGel which is what is handed out on course. They contain 200mg of sodium, so I was able to just take in water and not load my stomach with the on-course Gatorade.

My race plan was fairly simple. I had trained to run a goal pace of 6:30, but on top of having a goal pace I wanted to focus on my heart race early in the race. I've been happy with my "return" to training with a heart rate monitor since I began testing the Polar watch in early March. I wanted to keep my HR right around an average of 150bpm for the first 15 miles until we hit the hills. As it turned out, that HR was really close to 6:30 pace for my body. During races I always turn off the "auto lap" function and rely on "lapping" each mile marker on the course. Most courses are "long" compared to GPS, and in a large race like Boston with crowds of runners, it's impossible for the non-elites to have a clear course and run the tangents.

It was a beautiful morning, partly sunny with light wind and temps in the high 40's. I made my way to my corral, shed my throwaway shirt and crossed the mat about 1:40 after the gun went off. I started off wearing a singlet, arm warmers and cloth gloves. By the 2nd or 3rd mile I was shedding them as temps hit 50 degrees or so. All the hype was over, it was time to race and enjoy the sights and sounds of the Boston Marathon.
My first mile, while very net downhill, was my second slowest mile at 6:47 due to the crowds. I didn't let it bother me; I actually embraced it knowing that slow early miles can pay off at the end of the race. From that point forward I was consistently nailing miles within seconds over or above the 6:30 mark. My legs felt good and my HR was in the mid 140's. Perfect.

One of my favorite parts of the race is coming through Wellesley. Starting off with the incredible noise of the ladies of Wellesley College then entering the pristine, quaint town just bursting with spectators. You can't help but leave Wellesley with a huge smile.

Half Marathon Split Time: 1:26:18

I came through half feeling pretty good and pretty fresh. Not "I'm going to lay down a smoking 2nd half" fresh, but I've felt much worse at the same point in the race. The next stop was the climb over 128/95 at Mile 16; the first "test" of the race. At that point, I feel that you will know exactly how the rest of your race is going to play out as you crest the hill and return to downhill running near mile 17, very similar to cresting Heartbreak Hill at mile 21 with five more miles of mostly downhill running.

Our "crew" always cheers for us just before the right hand turn at the Newton Firehouse. Somehow, I missed them this year, catching them as I was already past and heard them yell my name. At this point in the race I wasn't too worried about my HR, I know it had crept up. The temperatures had climbed into the sunny mid 50's and it was starting to feel a little warm.

I felt strong up the hills, passing many runners and maintaining paces in the upper 6:30's to a couple of 6:40's in the Newton Hills. My slowest mile came up Heartbreak Hill at 6:49, yet Heartbreak seemed "easier" this year for some reason. My HR was now consistently in the low 160's which was manageable for another 35 minutes. Coming off Heartbreak I logged on of my fasted miles at 6:29; must have been all of those screaming Boston College kids! My legs were getting heaving, but still clicking along.
Now the real race begins. The "slog" into Copley Square. First, you pass a cemetery, then Brookline and onward toward the infamous Citgo sign. I always play number games in my mind at this point, to try to pass the time. I try to imagine my "easy" four mile loop at home, I try to garner energy from those runners who are falling off the pace and use their energy to propel me forward, all the while my mind is at war with my legs!

The landmarks kept clicking by, past Fenway and next up was the dreaded climb over Route 90 and then the dip under Mass Ave. and my two favorite turns, onto Hereford and onto Boylston. It wasn't until the "one mile to go" sign that I was actually able to get a handle on where my overall time was coming together. "Higher order" math just doesn't work too well after 25 miles of running! I knew I could hit the 2:53 mark, but 2:52 was just out of reach. I was still consistently passing people, so I put my head down and kept putting one foot in front of the other.

Then came the glorious turn onto Boylston. The finish line clearly in sight, the crowds just piled in and the noise echoing off the buildings, I soaked it all in and opened up my legs.

I averaged 6:37 for miles 22-26, my HR had climbed into the low 170bpm range but none of that mattered as I crossed the line.

Final time: 2:53:15 (2nd half 1:26:57)

I was happy to cross that line and I love thanking all of the wonderful finish line volunteers as I make my way through the finish chute, finally having that medal draped around your neck. No one can take that away from you.

I grabbed my bag and reflected on my race as I made my way over to get a massage. It was my 3rd fastest time at Boston, my 4th fastest time of my 26 marathons. I feel like I got the most out of my body and my training for this year. I followed my nutrition plan to a tee, had no cramping or GI issues and I ran very consistently. I was strong up the hills. I probably was most lacking in speed, leg turnover and efficiency which was likely due to my lack of high end speed work during this training cycle. My average HR was 157bpm which is about what I what I would have guessed before the race.

Of course we all know what happened a short time later. A friend of mine had just crossed the line about 15 minutes prior to the explosions and we had just entered the T station at Arlington on our way home when we were stopped at Hynes and evacuated. Our local running community struggled all week to come to grips with what had happened and Thursday night we planned a last minute group run to raise money for OneFundBoston. We had a great turn out and with the help of our local running store, Emmaus Run Inn and the Lehigh Valley Road Runners (who matched donations 100%) we were able to raise $600 in one night. More than supporting a great cause it was a great emotional relief to talk about what happened and cope together.

Thank you for reading and God bless!

Chrissy Horan is one of five Boston Marathon entrants testing Polar personal training gear and blogging about it for Boston.com

By Chrissy Horan, Boston.com Correspondent

Prior to this year's Boston Marathon, I had thought about several angles that a post-marathon blog post might take based on the outcome of the race. Never in my wildest dreams would I have imagined the events that took place.

It has taken me a while to put this post together. I have sat down at my computer several times, sometimes staring blankly, sometimes writing pages only to delete it all and sometimes quickly closing my laptop as tears well up in my eyes.

To be honest, the race is still kind of a blur. When asked how I ran, my response has been, “Fast enough.” I was receiving my medal when the first bomb went off. My parents and boyfriend, Brian, were on Boylston Street, having just walked past both bomb sites to meet me. All four of us were safe and uninjured.

Everyone in Boston that day, as well as anyone who has ever visited Boston, or knows someone who once visited Massachusetts, or is a human being with an ounce of compassion, felt the impact of those bombs. For those who were on or near Boylston Street, running or spectating, those moments, the images and the emotions, will be etched in our memories forever. Those further away, whether on the course or across state lines, will always remember how and when they heard about the day’s tragic events.

Processing the events has not been easy and has taken some time for me. I felt unsettled all, with routines from work, to eating and sleeping just a bit out of whack. Tons of questions filled my mind; “Who would do this?” “Am I safe?” “What if I had walked through those last three water stops?”

Yet at the same time, I recognize how fortunate I am. My thoughts and prayers go out to those who were closer, both physically and emotionally. Like many others impacted by the bombing, I am at times torn between needing to heal and feeling badly that I am still occasionally shaken, when others have suffered so much worse.

There still are occasionally spontaneous tears, though more often they are caused by moments of compassion instead of pain. (Damn you, Bruins and Red Sox for your incredible national anthems and tributes!)

But Boston, and the rest of the world will keep on running. Extending many miles past those run in any race, running fosters a community that has no borders.

To show their resolve, several friends who were stopped before the end of the race have chosen to complete their remaining distances. With legs still sore, they have often chosen to run in the same clothes they ran in last Monday, with their bib pinned on.

Races around the world carried on last week, taking time to honor the victims of the bombing and its heroes. Running clubs across the state have held group runs, many local groups relocating and changing their routes when their regular meeting spots became part of the crime scene. Friends from the Somerville Road Runners held a fundraiser and vigil and raised over $5,000 Monday night.

A running pal from San Diego ran side by side with Meb Kelfezighi at his local running store at a tribute run. And I’m sure similar runs occurred in cities across the country, though maybe without Meb.

Running groups across this area have come together to organize a tribute run. Scheduled for May 11, 26 days after the marathon, #onerun is an amazingly collaborative effort that I think will revive peoples’ spirits and hopefully help the businesses in the Back Bay as well.

I went for my first run last Sunday. It was slow. It hurt. And after, my quads felt worse than they did the Saturday before. But I was also so glad to be outside and running on that beautiful afternoon. My physical recovery seems oddly similar to the emotional recovery also taking place.

On Wednesday, with Boylston Street open for the first time, I walked through Copley Square and got on the T at the Copley stop to head to work. While I was prepared for a wave of emotion as I passed the memorial, now moved to Copley Square, I couldn’t help but feel a little more at ease. Buses drove down the street again and people walked to work at their previously closed office buildings. I bumped into three running friends on the street corner and felt some comfort in hearing them talk about upcoming group runs. The events of Marathon Monday are in no way forgotten, but the city carries on. Boston keeps running.

When the “what-ifs” and “coulda beens” do sneak up on me, I try to focus on what did happen and what I should be grateful for. I focus on the phenomenal acts of kindness that have flooded this city and neighboring communities this past week. And for those who were less fortunate than me, I focus on how I can now help.

One thing that has not been shaken is my resolve to keep running. It’s just what I do. And I promise that you will see me back on Boylston Street on 2014.

April F. Estrada

By Matt Pepin, Boston.com Staff

Everyone wants to #RunForBoston.

Despite the fact their sport at its very core is a particularly solitary pursuit, runners are famous for their fellowship and camaraderie. Even at highly competitive races, the best runners are eager to offer advice and share a certain simpatico with others who participate.

In the days following the Boston Marathon bombings on April 15, the running community's outpouring of support and solidarity has been overwhelming. Just search #RunForBoston on Twitter, you'll see.

Whether organized or as individuals, regardless of whether they were in the Boston Marathon, runners are taking action.

In many cases, that simply meant go running. A run helped you process the crush of information and events, it helped you clarify your thoughts and feelings, and it helped you just find an escape.

This tweet from Mario Fraioli, a senior editor at Competitor magazine, came two days after the Marathon bombings.

Just got this text from my buddy in Boston. Runners are out in full force, showing strength in numbers. #RunForBoston twitter.com/mariofraioli/s…

— Mario Fraioli (@mariofraioli) April 17, 2013

Fraioli's colleague at Competitor, Brian Metzler, reports interest in qualifying for the 2014 Boston Marathon has already spiked.

Photo courtesy of Julie Heyde/Boston College

Others wanted to run together to show support for Boston, like the group pictured in the above photo shared by Philip Mai of a meetup.com group called SDR – San Diego Running. Members of the Boston College women's track team ran a meet with "Boston Strong" written on their shoulders and blue and yellow ribbons – the colors of the Boston Marathon – in their hair.

The New York Road Runners group, which organizes the New York City Marathon, is selling "I run for Boston" shirts, and several members gathered near the NYC Marathon finish line Monday to observe a moment of silence at 2:50 p.m. together.

A coalition of running industry businesses has created "Run Now," a web site and movement designed to be a "hub of information on volunteering, participating, and sharing activities that demonstrate the solidarity of the running community." Run Now's goal is to raise $1 million for The One Fund Boston by June 5, which is national running day, and it will distribute the bracelets pictured at marathons and retailers across the country.

More felt the need to write out their feelings. Jennifer Sloan, a 38-year-old mom from Cambridge, composed a poem while on a long run she felt she needed to help sort out her thoughts about the tragedy.

"I wrote the poem so that it could represent anyone who reads it," Sloan said. "The 'I' doesn't really mean me.  It means everyone. We all felt moved and touched by what happened in Boston, no matter how close or how far away from the marathon we were."

We've reprinted it here with her permission.

Run, by Jennifer Sloan
I run
I run because I am Boston
I run for Boston
I run because I can, because I will
I run not because I am afraid
I run towards, for, in support of
I run one step, one thousand steps, one million steps
I run, I crawl, I am carried
I run in spirit
I take my first step
I run today, tomorrow, next year
I run for Martin
I run for Krystle
I run for Lingzi
I run for Sean
I run for all victims, the injured, the families
I run for those who need comfort, support
I run for a better world
I run for the good people
I run for hope, promise, tomorrow
I run because I can’t forget, because I won’t
I run
We run
I run because I am Boston
I RUN
RUN

Just as running has been cathartic in dealing with the Marathon tragedy, so too is sharing. Do you have a photo or short story, or perhaps want to spread the word about a #RunForBoston kind of event?

We invite you to share it here.

Allyson Manchester is one of six Boston Marathon entrants testing Polar personal training gear and blogging about it for Boston.com

By Allyson Manchester, Boston.com Correspondent

Wherever I run – through my neighborhood, on the beach, or in the Boston Marathon – the first three or four miles always serve as a threshold. During that short period, I transition from stress and over-thinking to total peace. I shake out my muscles, settle into pace, adjust to the temperature outside, and enter into a sacred space popularly known as “the zone.”

I found my groove somewhere around mile 4 of last Monday’s race. I absorbed the triumphant energy of little kids passing out orange slices and fun-loving dudes waddling along in cheeseburger costumes. My body forgot that it was running. I turned inward and began to brainstorm topics for my final Boston.com blog entry.

Over the next few miles through Ashland and Framingham, I mentally prepared an entry on race recovery. I planned to share some facts about stretching, as well as make a few wise cracks about the overpriced foam rollers that were on sale at the Expo.

The “race recovery” entry was supposed to be about celebrations and sore muscles. I certainly could not foresee the more profound recovery process that the Boston Marathon would necessitate – not only for runners, but also for the world at large.

I crossed the finish line at 2:44 p.m. Despite the fact that there was no energy left in my body, I threw my hands in the air and started to cry (and thanks to the folks at MarathonFoto, I now know that I am a rather unsightly crier). I was sandwiched between two of my best friends, one who had joined me at mile 22 and another who had scaled a metal barricade on Boylston Street to jump in for the final yards. From the finish line, I immediately hobbled over to my mom, my dad, and my cousin for the biggest hug I’ve received since winning the seventh grade geography bee. I was ecstatic.

The first explosion occurred at 2:50 p.m. Standing in line for my medal, I was 30 yards away from the blast. I was so exhausted from running that I wasn’t thinking clearly or fully processing my surroundings. The policemen shouted for everyone to run away, but my tired legs wouldn’t allow me to “run” and, even more terrifyingly, I was not sure what direction constituted “away.”

As an English student, I have interpreted many representations of violence. I have written papers on the “post-9/11 novel,” read theory on the word “trauma,” and discussed scenes from films like The Hurt Locker. At the Boston Marathon, however, violence was right in front of me. It wasn’t a distant story or image; I couldn’t analyze it or intellectualize it from my desk. All I could do was snap into survival mode. I found my friends and family. We escaped the area as quickly as possible, confused and terrified by the scene unfolding around us.

One week after the Boston Marathon, I still lack the ability to deal with this event in a logical, fact-driven fashion. Witnessing the act of violence has opened up questions and left me with complicated emotions. I don’t know how to respond when people congratulate me for running 26.2 miles. I don’t know how to process the juxtaposition of the happiest moment of my life and the most frightening moment of my life. I don’t know how to feel when I consider that I was one of the few runners who found her family when the disaster ensued. I don’t know how to come to terms with the deaths of Martin, Krystle, and Lingzi. I am looking for clarity in the chaos, but I am not sure when or how it will arrive.

Regardless of when or how we recover from this race, I know that the healing will happen. As people who love running and people who love Boston, we always recover.

One of the most important moments in my recovery so far was reading an e-mail from the Boston Athletic Association. The BAA sent out a series of communications in the wake of Monday’s events – some to honor the victims, others to provide logistical information on baggage pickup. I usually do not take the time to read mass emails, but one of the BAA’s subject lines caught my attention: “A message from the BAA to Our Runners.” The address “our runners” struck me as incredibly intimate. Since signing up for the Marathon, I have felt a powerful connection to the BAA and the other runners around me.

In the body of the email, Executive Director Tom Grilk quoted President Barack Obama in saying, “As you begin this long journey of recovery, your city is with you. Your commonwealth is with you. We will all be with you as you learn to stand and walk and, yes, run again. Of that I have no doubt. You will run again. You will run again! And we will run again.”

We will run again. This refrain epitomizes what it means to recover from the Boston Marathon. On a literal level, this phrase brings me comfort as my post-Marathon quad muscles struggle to climb staircases and run for longer than 10 minutes at a time.

On a figurative level, “we will run again” helped me to stay hopeful as I watched my city mourn the death of an M.I.T. police officer and stay trapped indoors for an entire day. I know that the city of Boston will not only run again; we will also be safe and relaxed and happy again.

I also love the phrase because it emphasizes gradual healing. As much as I would love to climb atop the roof of the Cask n’ Flagon during a raging thunderstorm and scream, “This is our city!” (colored with an f-bomb, a la Big Papi), I do not know that I am quite ready for that. “We will run again” means that, while we possess the strength to work through this tragedy, we do not need to repress it or pretend that it can be easily shaken off. In declaring ourselves Boston Strong, we must always remember to salute the pain that has shaped us.

Above all, “we will run again” contains the most powerful pronoun in the English language. When I think about the infinite networks of people who have voluntarily entered into the cause of Boston Marathon recovery, I am humbled and full of love. Monday’s events nearly caused me to lose my faith in humanity. I have probably I dropped the phrase “I’m going to lose my faith in humanity” one hundred times, as I encounter embarrassments like Tiara from The Bachelor, the dollar draft crowd at Coogan’s, and most songs recorded by Ke$ha. To say that I almost lost my faith in humanity on Monday, April 15, 2013 is not a hyperbole. I genuinely almost lost it.

In that dark moment, however, the immediate, heartfelt, and fearless response – of Boston law enforcement, of random runners with tourniquets – turned me into a permanent believer in human love. More than 200 people have actively supported me in the wake of the explosion, from my students at Boston College to the guy who screen-printed my friends’ Marathon Monday t-shirts to the members of the country club where I work over the summer. I am confident that, with the support of each other, we will run again – and we will run faster and stronger than ever.

The 2013 Boston Marathon didn’t go as planned. Still, we can all find strength in the recovery process. As we begin to run again, remember that this kind of recovery will involve more than $80 foam rollers. The recovery will be messy and painful. The recovery will be gradual. But most importantly, recovery will be collective.

Having just completed my 24th marathon and 12th consecutive Boston Marathon, the events of the past week have not only struck my community, my sport, but an element of very much of whom I am.

Yet, I remain unshaken. My resolve run is firm. And yes, I am already thinking and looking ahead to April 21, 2014.

Why?

Over the years, I have I come to realize that the marathon is more than a race. It is more than a distance. It is about more than running. What makes the marathon such an amazing and important experience is that I believe it represents the best in who we are as individuals, as Bostonians, and as a society.

Ty Velde is a regular contributor to Boston.com's Marathon blog.

It is about strength. It is about community. It is about determination. It is about victory.

Strength
At its core, the marathon is a celebration of strength. Anyone who has run the marathon knows that to simply get to the starting line, you must train for months to be ready for race day. Then there is the act of running 26.2 miles. No matter how hard you have trained, it’s never easy. But as runners, we are consistently able to do this because we are strong. Strong in mind. Strong in body. Strong in spirit.

Yet beyond this, the marathon celebrates our strength as people. Yes, there are elite athletes who ultimately win the race, but is this the reason that most choose to watch and support the marathon?

When it comes to the marathon, I'd like to believe that the primary attraction is not rooted in watching a small subset of people doing what most of us could only dream of. Rather, we are drawn to the marathon because we are cheering for our mom, dad, sister, brother and/or friend. We are cheering for someone just like you and me.

We cheer for the old, we cheer for the young. We cheer for the able-bodied, we cheer for the disabled. We cheer for the winner, we cheer for the survivor. We cheer, because even if you are not running, you can still see and visualize yourself within someone who is.

Ultimately, we cheer because what the marathon espouses and celebrates is our strength as people and as a community.

Community
The marathon is about community. Yes, the Boston Marathon is a race, an athletic event, but when you look beyond the surface you will discover so much more.

The marathon brings us together as a people. In Monday’s Boston Marathon all 50 states were represented. But beyond this there were 96 countries of citizenship represented including runners from countries such as Uruguay, Iran, Israel, Vietnam, Ukraine, and Finland. Yes, while the Boston Marathon takes place in America and is often cited as being a “unique” American institution, it is also a clear symbol of the global community that we all live within.

Beyond the runners, the marathon brings us together as Bostonians. It’s a day to celebrate who we are and our community. But what is unique about the marathon and the community it creates is that it’s not tied to a team, a score, a win or a championship. No, the community of the marathon is tied to the spirit of Boston and who we are as runners and as a people. The marathon demonstrates that the strength of our community does not reside within the skills of the few, but within the collective passion of the many. This is why the Boston Marathon has endured for 117 years and will continue to thrive.

Determination
There comes a point in every marathon where your energy is sapped, your body starts to ache and everything seems to just start to slow down.

You want to walk, but you continue to run. You want to stop, but you keep moving forward. You want to give up, but soon find yourself crossing the finish line. Why, when faced with such adversity do we choose to carry on?

Because of determination.

It’s about realizing a vision. It’s about not giving into the moment. It’s about rising above the challenge. Yes, those final miles of a marathon are in many ways a test of one’s resolve. But it’s a test that we demonstrate a consistent ability to pass. Why? Because when times get tough, the marathon inspires a sense of determination. It what keeps us moving forward and what ultimately powers us through to the finish line.

Victory
One of the true beauties of the marathon is that while somebody wins, nobody loses.

While each year someone is crowned a champion, those who finish behind them are not branded as losers. Instead those who come in behind the leader are still celebrated for what they have accomplished and the beauty of the marathon is that this is something that extends to each and every one of us who runs.

To most the marathon is not about winning or losing, it’s about victory. It’s a symbol of triumph. Running 26.2 miles is not easy, and as a community this is something we recognize and celebrate when it’s accomplished. I'd like to believe that this is what ultimately drives most of us to run. We’re not out there to win, but we are there to be victorious. We are there to show ourselves and others what we are made of and what we are able to do.

Ultimately, while I know most of us will never win the Boston Marathon, we will keep coming back to run. We will not stop. Why? Because our victories are personal, they are communal and for Bostonians, victory is just something that we cannot seem to get enough of.

In closing, I would just like to say that my heart goes out to all affected by the events Monday’s events and those thereafter.

But if I have realized anything over the past week, it is that the spirit and the values of the marathon are something that cannot be defeated. Why? Simply stated, because the spirit of the marathon is something that resides within the soul of us all.

We have shown our strength.

We have displayed our community.

We have conveyed our determination.

And ultimately, we have emerged victorious.

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The One Fund Boston
To help the people most affected by the tragic events that occurred in Boston on April 15, 2013 please consider donating to the One Fund. These are our mothers, fathers, sisters and brothers and they need your help right now. To learn more, click here.

Massachusetts residents are asked to observe a moment of silence on Monday at 2:50 p.m., to honor victims of the Boston Marathon bombing and their families.

Bells will be rung throughout Boston and the state following the moment of silence.

Boston mayor Thomas M. Menino, Massachusetts Gov. Deval L. Patrick and The One Fund made the request Sunday through a release from Menino's press office. The One Fund was established to raise money for the victims.

On Monday, April 15, two bombs exploded at 2:50 p.m. near the Boston Marathon finish line, killing three and injuring nearly 200. An MIT police officer was killed Thursday in a confrontation believed to be with the bombing suspects, and an MBTA officer was injured in a shootout on Friday as police hunted for the suspects.

The Boston Athletic Association, which manages the Boston Marathon, issued the following statement on its Boston Marathon Facebook page following the capture Friday of the second suspect in the Marathon bombings.

The B.A.A. joins all citizens of the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in thanking the federal, state and city law enforcement community for the resolution of today's manhunt. BOSTON Stands As One!

At this time, we remember Martin Richard, 8; Krystle Campbell, 29; Lingzi Lu, 23; and Officer Sean Collier, 26. We also remember all of those injured on Monday, and their families.

BostonStrong. BostonProud.