Former Derby Telegraph journalist Mario Cacciottolo was visiting Boston at the time of the explosions. He describes the reaction of Bostonians.
"You're nearly there!" "USA, USA!" "Come on, you can make it!"
The weather had been poor in Boston for the days leading up to Marathon Monday but when that day came there was barely a cloud in the sky. This helped create a vibrant atmosphere all along the route, and these were just some of the chants that rang out from the well-wishers that lined up to watch the runners, some of whom were staggering the last couple of miles towards the finish line.
People held up signs, sold charity t-shirts and ladies of a certain age were holding out fat slices of oranges for the runners to grab.
In Washington Square, at around the marathon's 23-mile mark, I went into a restaurant with my girlfriend and her friend – both proud Bostonians. We walked past a live street band, performing next to a gleaming fire truck with fluttering American flags and sizzling hot dogs and cheeseburgers being cooked outside a bar.
Shortly afterwards, I missed a phone call from a UK number, which I thought odd. Then my girlfriend took a call from her father and she looked totally horrified. I've never seen her look like that before. She blurted out that there'd been an explosion at the marathon's finish line. Her father had been at the site of the bombings 30 minutes before they went off, but happily had then left.
We decided to head back to her friend's flat, where there was wifi for me to use, and a television. Outside, the carnival atmosphere had collapsed. The music was off, the food was not being cooked and every other person was on their mobile, grim faced.
But the runners, by now made up of just the amateurs seeking to finish, were still passing by. Some of those on the sidelines were whooping and hollering support, somehow oblivious to what had happened, while nearby those on their phones were saying things like "I'm OK, I'm safe" "Secondary wave" and "Is it a terror attack?"
I later walked alone, further down the route, but started to come across police roadblocks. One man approached me and asked if he could call his wife on my phone. Friends were texting me from the UK saying there were devices being found elsewhere around the city – this later proved to be false alarms, but when you are standing in a street surrounded by police and sirens and you see a bag by itself on steps close by, it makes you jumpy.
Now the sun's still shining in Boston and everyone is waiting to hear who was responsible for the explosions. But I've already heard some Bostonians say that they haven't been to the Boston Marathon for a while but they'll be damned if they miss it next year.
The people of this city are proud. They still talk of how they helped defeat the British in the 18th century. They will not be beaten by acts of violence in the 21st.
