On Remembering and Carrying On | September 11

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I wanted to go for a run downtown yesterday. Really, I wanted to park near the Pentagon and run across the Memorial Bridge onto the mall. But, figuring that security around the Pentagon would be crazy, I decided that wouldn’t be the best plan. My second choice was to park in Rosslyn and do a similar route coming back through Georgetown and the Key Bridge. But since I couldn’t find anyone who could spend the morning with me, and frankly, I had other things I should be doing, too, I settled and headed out on my normal neighborhood loop.

I’m sure there has been a cloudy September 11 since 2001. Yet I feel like every year, I look up to a bright blue, cloudless sky and think how amazing it is that every year, the sky looks just the same. In 2001, I headed into the lab super early every morning, so by the time the first plane hit the World Trade Center, I was finished with my morning’s work in the tissue culture room and came out to see the image on my labmate’s computer screen.  After a brief chat, we carried on with our work, but gathered back around the computer as word filtered down the halls that the second tower had been hit. I fielded the call of a friend who was supposed to be relaxing after defending her thesis the day before but was instead frantically looking for the work number of a friend who worked in the World Trade Center.  Finally, I remember running across the hall to stand next to the desk that would eventually be mine to look out the window into that crystal blue sky, watching smoke rise from the Pentagon before we were eventually sent home.

Somehow, every year on September 11, I feel compelled to run. Because I can. This year I wanted to go downtown, run past the same skyline I saw looking out that window. I wanted to run across the Key Bridge, remembering the fully armed National Guard troops who welcomed me across for weeks as our city struggled to return to normal. I was a little disappointed to “just” be running my normal loop. Yet as I ran the lovely wooded trail along the interstate, I could see the flags placed on the overpasses every year by the Arlington County Fire Department in memory of that day.  I saw the cherry blossom-themed sign pointing towards downtown.  Crossing over the interstate as I headed home, I could hear the hum of traffic and the rumble as a metro train passed under me.  The sky and the flag, so beautiful. The traffic, so blissfully normal. The day will not be forgotten, yet we have carried on.

And as for that run downtown, there’s always next year. (At which point my St. Louis Cardinals-loving eight year old would tell me I sound like a Cubs fan!)

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