BOSTON -- The word "Boston" seemed to have three distinct meanings here on Tuesday, the day after two explosions rocked the Boston Marathon, New England's most widely viewed sporting event.
For the thousands of elite runners who descended on the city for Monday's race, the word Boston is inseparable from and interchangeable with its 26.2 mile running course. "Non-runners will never understand Boston," said Patrick McKilligan, 68, who flew to Massachusetts from Washington state to run in the race. "But for runners, if you say you did Boston -- because you don't say, 'I ran Boston,' no. You say, 'I did Boston' -- a fellow runner will understand that, and just shake your hand, or maybe bow down to you," he half-joked.
McKilligan and his friend Steve, who declined to give his last name, were in Boston with their friend Bill Iffrig, who was just feet from the blast when it happened. Iffrig, 78, was knocked down by the force of the blast as police swarmed the area, resulting in one of the more memorable photographs of the event.
As for whether the attack at the marathon would influence the group's choice of where to race next year, McKilligan laughed, saying, "We'll see you back here next year."
Throughout the day, each one of the half-dozen marathon runners who spoke to The Huffington Post confirmed that they plan to return for the 2014 race. Boston resident Ali Quade Spring, whose husband, Peter Spring, ran this year's marathon, said the attacks might even provide the final push to convince her to train to "do Boston" next year.
While the runners tended to define Boston by its marathon, non-runners hailed qualities in the city which one civic leader said are quintessentially Bostonian: Its efficiency and its toughness. Both were on display as the city reopened streets on Tuesday that had been closed just after the attack, and deployed hundreds of volunteers and experts to aid the residents affected.
At one location offering services for those affected, located inside the downtown Smith and Wollensky castle, Sen. Elizabeth Warren (D-Mass.) was spotted Tuesday afternoon, meeting with constituents, one by one.
While most companies in the immediate area gave workers the option to take a mental-health day on Tuesday, both insurance executive Brooks Finnegan and the CEO of a call center, who asked not to be named, said that they and their employees viewed coming into the office the day after the attack as a form of defiance. "We will not be terrorized," Finnegan said.
But neither the runners and fans of the marathon nor the city's seemingly springy recovery tell the whole story of what's going on here.
There's a third Boston on display this week, less conspicuous than the other two, a city where residents are struggling to cope with bad memories and the new realities of life post-terror attack. Helicopters hovered constantly over downtown buildings Tuesday, and SWAT team Humvees dominated the traffic pattern.
Finnegan said he was less than 50 feet from the blasts, and he sees the scene when he closes his eyes. "I kept dreaming over and over last night that people were rushing towards us ... there were hundreds of people running as fast as they could, moaning, with terrible distorted faces ... I remember that in real life, there was a woman on my right with a slice through her cheek," he said.
Another executive, who asked to be identified only as a person "working in finance," said, "Work feels so mundane after what we experienced."
"Here I am at the office, pushing papers around," he said, "and all I want is to go do something that matters."
CORRECTION: Previous versions of this article misidentified Ali Quade Spring and her husband, Peter Spring. We regret the error.
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