As is often the case following a Boston Marathon, runners, their families, and their friends converged on the lobby and bar area of the downtown Sheraton Hotel last night, and shared stories from race day.
But the tales featured kickers that made them decidedly one-of-a-kind.
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In the wake of the tragedy that took place Monday afternoon on Boylston Street, just a few hundred yards from the Sheraton, runners spoke of a glorious day that suddenly turned surreal, sad, and regrettably unforgettable. They recalled where they were when the explosions occurred -- some just a few yards from the center of terror -- and what they will remember, even though they wished they didn't have to.
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It had been a very happy family affair for Mike Schlitt, Cindy Hill and their daughter Meghan. The three had finished the Boston Marathon together, in 3:55. They had been awarded their medals, but remained gathered at the finish line for a couple of extra minutes--long enough to know how close they were to the heart of the day's turn of events.
"If my daughter had run her qualifying time, we would have probably been right in front of the buildings when the explosions happened," said Schlitt, whose family lives in Haddonfield, New Jersey. "The bombs went off about 150 yards from us. Right away people said, 'Run! Run! Run!'"
The family escaped the finish line area, but soon were rushed by people "asking if we had seen their son or daughter," said Schlitt. "Of course, we didn't know these people so we simply said we hadn't."
In the Sheraton last night, Hill wore her Boston finisher medal, but with mixed emotions. In the hours immediately after the race she felt uncomfortable displaying it. "How can I be happy," she said. "It was not a happy, wonderful day."
Her husband echoed the thoughts. "It went from being one of the best weekends ever for the three of us," said Schlitt, "to being one of the worst."
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Mike Carriglitto was hanging out in the Sheraton lobby at 10 p.m., unable to return to his room at the Marriott in Copley Square. Carriglitto intended to drive back to Reading, Pennsylvania, with his girlfriend, but the Marriott's garage was on lockdown as of 6 p.m., and he couldn't retrieve his car.
When the explosions went off, Carriglitto was standing just two blocks from the finish line with his girlfriend, Sam Snukis, and her mom, Kathy Snukis, who had finished the race 10-15 minutes earlier. The finish line became mass confusion, he said, so the whole group retreated to the Sheraton lobby, which had become a makeshift reunion area.
"Even though we were there, it was crazy how most people had no idea what was going on," Carriglitto said. He said there were people milling around the lobby, watching the TV for information, and exchanging lots of "long embraces" with reunited family and friends. For other displaced runners and marathon spectators, members of the community turned out to help. "There were people on the street going around asking if people needed places to stay," he said. "It was kind of awesome."