After witnessing the deadly attack, I struggled with daily life and lost my passion for running. At the Frankfurt marathon, six months later, the emotional toll caught up with me
It was late 2013, six months after I had run the Boston marathon – the year two men detonated two bombs near the finish line, killing three people and injuring hundreds. Back in Germany, my home country, I had been struggling with my mental health for months, but I was determined to complete another marathon and maybe make it back to Boston. I had signed up for that month’s Frankfurt marathon, but told nobody except Christina, my therapist.
I went to the starting line only a couple of minutes before the race started. For the first half or so, I felt good. The sun was shining. My mind was empty and I was running faster than ever. Then I felt a breakdown coming on. I could no longer run. I walked the rest of the way, crying. People kept stopping to ask if I needed help, or to comfort me. I knew their intentions were good, but I felt as if I was in a different world. All I could think was: why am I here, running, when others were killed and many more had been injured and could never run again?
