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."

* * *

Steve Rice, 45, of Chicago was running with a plagued-by-injury friend who'd vowed this Boston Marathon--his seventh in a row--would be his last marathon. "He wanted to go out with a…" Rice trailed off, realizing his choice of words. "I don't even want to say it."
Rice played pack mule for his friend, carrying food, water, and, most importantly, a cell phone. "If I had been racing, I wouldn't have had it," he said. 
Around mile 21, the police diverted Rice, his friend, and the rest of the field to the sidewalk. They had no further information--they just knew they could not continue along the route.
Rice was able to use his phone to get in touch with the three friends he knew were running within 20 minutes. He also called the Sheraton to book an additional night, knowing he'd miss his scheduled flight home. 
The concern then became the five-mile walk back to the hotel. They found a group of friends who'd been cheering for them less than a mile away, and those friends were able to provide some warmer clothes. The most direct route--the course--was blocked, so they went around, stopping in the occasional Starbucks just to get warm. Rice was later able to change his flight to Tuesday.
"It’s annoying, but under the circumstances, no one is complaining," he said. "It was a terrible thing to invite upon a wonderful event."
* * *

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."

* * *
Brittany Van Nielen of Norfolk, Virginia, finished her first Boston Marathon in 3:14 and went to the family reunion area to meet up with her sister, who crossed the finish line in 3:19 with a different wave. Van Nielen said she heard the explosion and immediately knew something didn't sound right but didn't think anything of it.
Van Nielen returned to the Sheraton with her family without knowing for sure what had happened at the finish line. "I saw someone crying, but I just assumed they had had a bad race," she said. Back at the hotel, the scene was "mass humanity," with widespread confusion and long hugs exchanged between runners reunited with their loved ones.
"The whole thing was surreal," Van Nielen said. "First it seemed like the perfect day, and it was just awesome feeling the energy of the city. Then we didn't know what had happened at first, but everything just changed."
Still, she vows to return next year. "I've been so impressed by Boston's fast response to the whole situation."