News of yesterday’s bombing at the finish line of the Boston Marathon hit me hard. With incredulity and anger, I watched the TV as the euphoria of a 26-mile run turned into horror and chaos.

Maybe because I am a runner and have run a half-marathon, I felt like it was my people who were targeted yesterday. Obama, who looked grim during his remarks yesterday said, “On days like this there are no Republicans or Democrats — we are Americans, united in concern for our fellow citizens.”

To which I might add, we are all runners, we are all citizens of Boston.

In January I attended a book launch at the exquisite Boston Public Library, the oldest library in America. I stayed at the Lenox Hotel and ate breakfast at the Four Seasons in Copley Square. Boston’s Back Bay neighborhood was vivid in my mind as I watched video of first responders wheeling runners on gurneys across bloody sidewalks.

Another day was vivid in my mind, too.

The weather was perfect, the sky bright blue just like the morning of September 11, 2001, when I felt the same sense of violation and loss. Just like that day, it was the second hit that convinced us that it was not an accident but an attack.

Yesterday afternoon the TV news played the same video over and over again, just like they did on 9/11. I knew from that time to turn it off and tune in to what I was thinking and feeling. Shock. Pain. Fear. Grief. Sympathy for the victims, hope for the injured.

To which I might add, we are all runners, we are all citizens of Boston.