Boston beckons these N.Y. runners

WHITE PLAINS, N.Y. — Vickie Cox crossed the finish line on Boylston Street, at the intersection of satisfaction and exhaustion, 26.2 miles from where she began her Boston Marathon journey. About two minutes later, she was shuffling along, a half-block up the road. Suddenly, she heard a boom behind her.

She turned and saw the cloud of smoke just before the finish. It was 2:49 p.m., April 15, 2013. The real estate broker from Rye, N.Y., thought it was probably a timing device that exploded. So she wasn't overly concerned. Then Cox heard the second explosion 12 seconds later, about 100 yards or so farther back. Now she was concerned.

"Being a New Yorker, my first thought was, 'uh-oh,' and I looked up at the sky because I thought somebody dropped something," said Cox.

Some people behind her said: "Run."

"I just finished running 26 miles, and I was tired," Cox said. "I didn't want to run."

Later, exhaustion turned to anger. It was supposed to be her 11th and final run at Boston. But she will be back for her 12th on Monday at the age of 59, ready to compete again like several other Lower Hudson Valley runners in a field of around 36,000, feeling a sense that they had to return after the bombings that killed three and injured 264.

"After that, I feel like I have to go back every year," Cox said. "I feel like there's something so special about that race, and now it means even more to me."

Others feel the same way.

Doug McEnroe

Two brothers, Tamerlan Tsarnaev and Dzhokhar Tsarnaev, had allegedly done the unthinkable. The two bombs devastated so many, taking lives and limbs.

Police shot and killed Tamerlan. Dzhokhar was later taken into custody.

"I'd say hang him," Doug McEnroe said. "He needs to die."

When McEnroe sees the retrospectives after being in that race last spring, the 39-year-old IT project manager and Stony Point, N.Y., resident says the images bring him "extreme anger." There's this one picture he saw, with one of the bombers in the background and a little girl in the foreground, hanging on a barrier, cheering on the runners, not long before the explosions.

McEnroe was celebrating his run with his wife, Roisin, at a restaurant a few blocks away about 45 minutes after finishing, and then the bombs went off. The McEnroes have two daughters, now 5 and 3, who weren't in Boston with them. The picture of the bomber and the girl struck a nerve.

"That image, it just haunts me, to think that somebody could do that," McEnroe said.

"I kept thinking, 'That could've been my little girl.' Because of what happened, I don't think I will be bringing them for a while."

After running the fastest of his nine marathons, including four at Boston — 2:56.53 — he can't wait for the start of this one. But it isn't because he wants to better that mark.

"I have never been more excited to run," said McEnroe, a member of the Rockland Road Runners. "Usually, it's about receiving a personal record or you want to get that fastest time. But this year, it's really about the city of Boston. You're running it for all that were affected in the tragedy. It's about a 'we' and not about 'I.' It's really a privilege and an honor to be running it."

Patricia Garibaldi

Patricia Garibaldi headed up Heartbreak Hill. The then-Boston College freshman passed a loud crowd of fellow students at the top, where the Boston College campus is located. She was 21 miles into her first marathon.

Soon Don Garibaldi jumped into the race to run with her, father and daughter from Pleasantville, N.Y., on the joyful streets of Boston.

They were on Commonwealth Avenue and about to hang a right onto Hereford Street, just four-tenths of a mile remaining. But the intersection was blocked by the police. They told the runners they couldn't proceed and barricaded the turn.

It was about 3 o'clock. Patricia heard about some sort of explosion at the finish line. She wondered whether they would eventually be allowed to complete their runs, not knowing the severity of the tragedy. But the race was over for them.

She had trained five months for this day, 40 to 50 miles a week on average. And now, 25.8 miles in, Patricia Garibaldi couldn't finish what she started.

"It was definitely incredibly frustrating," she said, "especially because the last two miles, your legs are so heavy. You mentally count down, this much further, this much further. It was definitely very frustrating and both mentally and physically painful to be stopped there."

People descended from their apartments with sweatshirts, food, water and phones. Patricia Garibaldi called the scene "pretty incredible."

Her mom, Patty, and her older brother, Chris, had been bound for the finish line. Her dad ran to try to find them. But they were a few stops away on the subway when it happened and were forced to get off. Everyone was fine.

"That frustration and motivation stayed with me, and it's like, 'I'm going to finish the race,' " the 19-year-old sophomore said after attending a tribute ceremony featuring Vice President Joe Biden on Tuesday's anniversary.

"But it's also for — in Boston, the community has been so strong on this. Obviously, there were people that were affected by this much more seriously than I, but I never felt like anybody who was dealing with any part of it was alone."

Patrick Parietti

About 40 minutes after finishing his ninth Boston Marathon last year, Patrick Parietti heard the bombs go off.

His phone didn't stop, texts and calls coming and coming. One call came from his assistant principal at Nyack Middle School, telling him he didn't have to come in the next day.

But the special education teacher did go in, and his students are part of the reason the 53-year-old Nyack, N.Y., resident and Rockland Road Runner is returning for another try.

"Last year after I came back, a lot of the kids came up to me," Parietti said. "There was some kind of bond after that. They wanted to talk about it. Not that I've really talked to the kids that much about it, but I wanted to go back and do it to sort of (show them it's) business as usual. I think it's really important to go back and not let this affect us."

Michael Nusblat

There are 70 marathons behind Michael Nusblat of Stony Point, and another right in front of him. This will be his seventh at Boston. The 61-year-old Rockland Road Runner and retiree looks back at his last one there and wonders why.

Why bomb the Boston Marathon? How do you make sense of the senseless?

"Usually, people who are inclined to do things like this are more trying to make a statement," Nusblat said. "But what kind of statement can you make when you adversely affect people who are from all over the country, all over the world, participating in this?"

Nusblat finished in 3:47.21 and didn't find out what happened until he got back to his hostel. A fellow runner and friend with whom he was sharing a room told him. Nusblat stayed glued to the TV, watching the aftermath unfold, piece by piece, and didn't take a bus home until the next day.

"I was obviously upset and lucky," Nusblat said. "I was thinking to myself, 'Wow, it could have happened when I was running.' "

Yet he has no hesitation running it again one year later.

"I think part of the reason is it's something we enjoy doing," Nusblat said. "And we shouldn't be intimidated by some person's craziness. If you feel strongly about what you're doing and you want to do it, you shouldn't stop."