Boston Strong Stories, One Year Later

For last July's special issue on the Boston Marathon bombings, we interviewed dozens of people swept up by the events of April 15, 2013. A year later, most of them are healing, reflecting, and (yes) running Boston again. Read on for the inspirational stories that we're sharing on the first anniversary of the tragedy.

Interviews by John Brant, Charles Butler, Caleb Daniloff, Scott Douglas, Christine Fennessy, Caitlin Giddings, Megan Hetzel, Jon Marcus, Katie Neitz, Clara Silverstein, and Nick Weldon

PHOTOS: Dear World, Boston Marathon

Ellen Hunger Gans
30, writer, Edina, Minn. Was stopped near mile 25. Will return to run this year (guaranteed entry as a nonfinisher).

"I was 12 weeks pregnant at the marathon last year [with her first child]. In fact, when I was in Boston, I didn't know I was going to have a son, and now that I have one, it's impossible not to think of that little boy, Martin Richard. I have a new perspective of his parents' loss, not that I can begin to imagine it. Thinking of them losing that little boy when I was carrying one that is now here--there is a certain amount of guilt involved. But I prefer to look at it more positively, to feel really grateful and appreciate what I do have. I feel great about going [to Boston this year]. I'm not concerned. But I will say I have had debates with myself on whether or not to bring my son. Just, you know, the idea of having him at the finish line. . .I would have that on my mind the whole time. I haven't decided yet. It would be hard to have him at the finish line just because I keep thinking of that boy." (RELATED: What Every Woman Should Know About Training Through Pregnancy)

Kristine Biagiotti
47, IT consultant, Mendon, Mass. Last year, she pushed her 19-year-old daughter, Kayla, who has mitochondrial disease. They finished (in 5:32:55) just seconds after the bombs went off. She'll run this year to raise money for Boston Children's Hospital.

"Kayla will be waiting somewhere along the course to cheer me on. I decided to not have her with me this year because, first of all, the field is so big. We take up a lot of extra room with the stroller, and I was nervous about an additional 10,000 people on the course and people needing to pass us. Second, security. Security, of course, is a good thing. But I can't just walk around with Kayla. It can be difficult to get around, and with extra security, it could just make things harder for us. Also, I have to be prepared and have people staged along the course with medical supplies for her, and I'm not sure if that will be doable with security. It's a whole production when we race. So I want to go and see it myself this year and see what's involved so that I'm prepared for next year. In 2015, we will both go back."

PHOTOS: Tribute, The New Boston Marathon Exhibit

Jody Mattie
38, Truro, Nova Scotia. After running 3:39:27, he was recovering in the medical tent when the bombs went off; many victims passed his cot. Will run Boston 2014 (got in by writing an essay).

"I was in denial all summer. I was unable to concentrate. And anytime I would hear words like 'Boston' or 'bomb' it would sort of trigger my brain and the flashbacks would come. I guess I'd describe them as crippling. I've been diagnosed with severe PTSD. I bore witness to all kinds of things, and that's had an immense impact on me. My job [as a mortgage advisor] is over as a result. Losing my job made me realize, This is real, and it has reaching impact, so I've got to do something about it. It wasn't long before I got diagnosed and was given a treatment plan. It's funny, my psychologist, she has said all along that running is the best thing I can do for myself."

RELATED: Why Running Helps to Cope With PTSD

Bill Rodgers
66, four-time Boston Marathon winner, Boxborough, Mass. Had just returned from a run when he heard about the bombings. Will not run this year.

"I think (this year's Boston) is going to send a great message that running is a sport where your race, your income, your religion, and all the other factors that kind of tear the world apart--and even us Americans apart--pull us together. That's why I've always loved road races. I was a competitive runner and liked to get out there and win, and I loved the intensity, but running is more than just running. It's got meaning. It's a sport where we try and get along, and that's powerful. I loved that they put out those daffodils (along the racecourse). It's just symbolic. This is a sport of peace."

Erin Hurley
27, caretaker, Carlisle, Mass. Was stopped at mile 25. Her boyfriend, Jeff Bauman, was waiting for her at the finish and lost his legs in the blast. Not running this year.

"I had to leave my job [hospital administrator at Brigham and Women's Hospital in Boston] because I couldn't do the commute and help Jeff. I never thought I would be so busy not working; I'm keeping track of all the medical stuff, media attention, invitations to things, and the book [Bauman's memoir, Stronger, cowritten with Bret Witter, comes out April 8]. And both of us are doing mental-health counseling, trying to deal with all the changes. We went on free trips to France and Costa Rica. It was nice to travel, but Jeff was having a hard time keeping up with PT, and that's the most important thing, that he gets healthy and is progressing. That's always been the number-one priority, and between November and December it started to not be the number-one priority. So once January came around, we were like, 'Okay, we have to get back on our schedule and try to move on.' For Jeff, the only way he can do that is by physically getting stronger and learning how to use his legs. We have a couple of big life milestones coming up, so getting that stuff together, figuring out where I'm going to work and when I'm going to go back to school and that kind of thing. We had a realization over the holidays that, 'All right, we need to slow this down a bit because it's too much.' We're going to be at the marathon, but I don't know in what capacity. I have a lot of friends running. They're with a charity team started for Jeff [Team Bauman], but we're going to donate that money to a few foundations that have helped us out quite a bit. We don't need any more help--people have been so generous."

PHOTOS: What Boston Looks Like, One Year Later

Dr. David Driscoll
59, internist at Harvard Vanguard Medical Associates, Boston.
Was working in the medical tent at the finish line when the bombs went off. Will be working in the tent this year.

"My mother died three days after the bombings. So I was suffering from high emotional trauma. I didn't take any time off from work, aside from a day off for the funeral. And people kept coming up to me asking how I was doing. Looking back now, I think I was maybe burying my emotions. I was out of it but didn't realize it. I remember a week or two after the bombings, things would happen, like I'd be in a room and the ventilation system would go on, and when it fired up, I'd find myself jumping and having some anxiety. I had to catch my breath. It was a sound I heard a million times, but now I'm freaking out. That subsided. I remember going to an event at a museum. I saw an unattended bag and had anxiety. I look at things differently now. Before I would've just enjoyed the event. Now I'm like, 'This would be a great place for a terrorist attack.' Being a physician who treats veterans, I'm now more sensitive to the trauma that they've been through. I feel like I can understand better now how PTSD affects them."

Robert Wheeler
24, student, Marshfield, Mass. Finished in 4:01:51, then ran back after the bombs went off. Photo of him using his shirt as a tourniquet on the leg of one of the victims went viral. Will run this year (got in by writing an essay).

"Once the adrenaline had worn off, the shock of it all sunk in. I was trying to cover it up for the longest time. One, I'm a guy, so I put up that shield: I can handle this. And I'm an early 20s guy, so even more so. But I had to come to terms with it. Yes, it changed me, but my responsibilities haven't changed. You still need to get up and go to work; you gotta pay your bills. It almost requires you to pretend it didn't happen, but obviously it affected you."

PLUS: How Boston's Tragedy Brought Strangers Together

John Tlumacki
57, Boston Globe photographer, Pembroke, Mass. Last year, he was shooting from the finish line and took many of the iconic images from that day. Will be back working this year.

"For eight months after the marathon, I felt a great deal of guilt about the photos I had taken following the bombings. I would tell myself that I was a journalist, and when the bombs went off I had a job to do--to record this terrible event. But later I felt, 'Did I overstep my bounds?' The first two weeks were the worst. I was sleeping and those horrific images were playing over and over in my mind. There were photographs I took that no one has seen.

The guilt didn't go away until just after Christmas. I had been documenting the recovery of Celeste Corcoran (above, right) and her daughter, Sydney (above, left). A photo I took of Sydney appeared on the front page of the Globe; it showed her lying on the ground, with two men trying to stop the bleeding from her femoral artery in her right leg. A photo of Celeste appeared on the front page of the Daily News in New York. It showed her husband, Kevin, using his belt to try and stop the bleeding from one of her legs. Kevin saved her life, but Celeste ended up losing both her legs. I met Celeste and Sydney two weeks after the bombings. I hugged Celeste and apologized for the photos. She said, 'John, I know if you had seen my daughter and no one was helping her, you would have put your camera down and helped.' I appreciated that, but I told her I wanted to make it up to her. One way I thought I could do that was to document her recovery [for a Boston Globe story]. She agreed, and for eight months, I shot moments like the day she was fitted for prosthetics and when she took her first steps. At one point she asked, 'John, do you have your laptop? I never got to see my legs on the day of the marathon. When I woke up, they were amputated.' We went over frame by frame the photos I had. It was the most unusual and most incredible moment. For her it felt like closure. She saw her legs for the last time, and it felt good for me.

On the day the story appeared, December 29, I kept waiting to hear from them. I thought, 'Uh, oh, they don't like it.' Finally, around 3 p.m., Celeste called and said, 'John, I just want to thank you for what you did.' I told her, 'Celeste, it all goes back to the day we met and the guilt I felt.' And she said, 'Please, John, don't ever feel guilty.' It's one thing if a coworker says you shouldn't feel guilty, but it's another thing when the person you photographed says that. I finally felt absolved. I told her, 'I will never think like that again.'"

PLUS: One Photographer's Boston Strong Images

Caitlin Giddings
35, RW Web producer, Allentown, Pa. Was locked down with the media in the Fairmont Copley Hotel for four hours. Will be working the event this year.

"I've never considered myself a fearful person, so I was surprised by how unsettled I felt in the aftermath of Boston. About a month after the race, I was at a brew festival when a cannon fired next to my head unexpectedly, and I hit the ground as if I'd been shot. It was only then I realized how anxious the experience had made me--that I could be relaxing in a crowd of drunken revelers in beer hats and pretzel necklaces and still be halfway on edge."

Kara Goucher
35, elite marathoner, Boulder, Colo. Finished sixth in 2:28:11. Was in the Fairmont Copley Plaza Hotel with her family when the bombs went off. Not running this year.

"Boston stuck with us for a while because my son was in therapy afterward. He doesn't understand what happened; all he knows is that I basically had an anxiety attack and he saw that. He was just really scared of everything, and couldn't be away from me, and was actually kind of angry at my husband [retired elite runner Adam Goucher]. We found out in therapy it's 'cause he felt like Adam didn't protect me, or whatever he thought in his little 2-and-a-half-year-old brain at the time. But he's doing a lot better. He actually hasn't spoken about it for awhile, and then recently I was crying because we were moving [from Portland, Oregon, to Boulder] and I was thinking about my friends, and he was like, 'Mom, it's okay. We don't have to go to Boston.' And I was like, Gosh. It's still in that little brain of his."

PLUS: What to Expect for Boston Marathon, 2014