I’ve spent nearly five years studying journalism but 50 years could not have sufficiently prepared me for yesterday.

Forty-five minutes before two explosions shattered the Boston Marathon, I was weaving through finished runners on Clarendon Street, behind Copley Square. Many of them were wrapped in those crumpled space blankets handed out at the finish line to keep participants warm. Wind would sweep through the alleyways, billowing into the blankets until they exploded in the faces of anyone behind them. After experiencing this no less than five times, I decided I was done covering the race. I found my roommate and began walking home a little after 2 p.m.

The next six hours were frenzied. In my entire life I have never been able to feel such a shared helplessness when I looked out the window of my Fenway apartment.

Forty-five minutes after the explosions I thought about returning to the scene. I thought about helping others and covering what transpired. It was the most personally affecting news story of my life. I had heard about moments like these in class. The accounts of unfathomable courage from photojournalists during the 9/11 attacks and reporters in the Gaza Strip came to mind.

This was one of the only times in my life that I was unable to sufficiently calm myself.

I decided to stay indoors. I tweeted. I helped my hometown news. I checked in with family and friends. They were the ones who affected my choice. My girlfriend, my mom, my dad and my sisters all told me to stay away before I even considered otherwise. In the end I couldn’t bring myself to disobey them.

There are few professions that merit a commitment so complete you are willing to risk your life to practice them. Journalism is one of them, and I remain unsure how many people recognize that until something like this happens.

Yesterday presented a dichotomy of tragedy and personal breakthrough for a lot of us. Some of my friends found bylines with big news organizations or wrote moving accounts for their own media organizations. One was between the two explosions and stuck around long enough to help the wounded. They were selfless and they were brave. I was proud.

Thanks to everyone who has checked up on me in the last 24 hours.

Get well soon, everybody.