Living Strong and Running Along

This is the second of my posts regarding the Livestrong Challenge.  You can read the first post here.

Dan rode in his first Livestrong Race in 2006.  When we spoke about the event a few days later, he said, "There's a run. You should do it next year." I didn't give it much thought until about 6 months later when he called me, wanting to start a team, and said, "You need to be on my team this year. I can get you a discount!" So I did.  I listened to Lance Armstrong speak before he rode 100 miles in under 2 hours, shuffled through the course, made 3 trips through the steam tent, and was there when Dan crossed the finish line in second place.  And then I cried. We both made signs- mine said "Macstrong" and Dan's said "Never never quit."

Dan kept those signs for 7 years.  We found them in his room after he passed away.

In early summer, my Aunt Wendy announced that she was going to participate in the Challenge and set up a team.  Her husband (Uncle Joe), their three kids, and my parents signed up to walk the 5K course.  Wendy registered for the 10K.  Dan's friends set up another team for the walk. After much deliberation, I signed up for the 5K run as well.  I started a Couch to 5K program about 2 weeks before the race, and I didn't have any ideas that I would do particularly well on race day.  But it was very important that I run again this year, just as I had run while Dan was alive. 

Adding his name to the Wall was an important part of Dan's race day ritual.  We made sure it was there this year.

Honoring friends & family.

I went to the Livestrong Village on the Friday before the race to pick up my registration package.  I am glad that I was there a few days early, and I am glad that I had the area mostly to myself.  It was very hard to see the yellow and black banners, saying "Hope," "Strength," and "Courage." Dan was all of those things to me. Not for the first time, I thought about how unfair it was to be there while he couldn't be. Not for the first time did I have to try to explain to David what cancer was, and what had happened, and why I was sad.  While a little pensive, it was hard to be sad with so many volunteers, some cancer survivors themselves, thanking me for coming out and wishing me luck. Ben continued to be supportive- humoring my "need" to "carb up" (not really necessary for a 5K run) and offered to watch David during the actual race.

Prepping for the Race

My special Dan sign.

Race day dawned bright and early.  It was surprisingly cool for an August morning.  I joined the rest of my family- the only one in blue in a sea of yellow.  We cheered for Wendy as she ran off with the 10K runners, and then I stepped into the coral for the 5K.  I tried to keep my emotions in check, but it was very hard, especially when I looked around at all of the special shirts and signs around me. Too many names, too many families, too many whose lives have been impacted by cancer. It was great to see so many families supporting loved ones. We had support from both sides of our family, and it made a difficult morning a lot easier.

After listening to the peppy music for a few minutes, they sounded the horn to signal our start. Either because I was more prepared, or because of the large amount of baby strollers in the coral, I did not dash out at top speed like I had at the 2007 Challenge.  I managed to make it much further than I expected to before I had to take a walking break.  The volunteers at the water stand were very nice, and I thanked them for being there. Then I went around the corner and down the hill. That's when things got a little bit tougher.

When I was preparing for the race, I loaded up my iPod with some tunes that reminded me of Dan and some other Fibro fighters.  I knew that I would be doing a mix of running and walking, so I made sure to add a mixture of slower and faster music onto my iPod, and I figured that I would alter my pace to the beat of the music.  Wouldn't you know- none of the slower songs popped up for the duration of the event.  At one point, I looked at the sky and told Dan to knock off the shenanigans. I can only imagine what the people around me thought. But they were happy when it started to rain a bit later!  Things got a little rough when I thought that the second mile was stretching on and on.  (Turns out that they did not put out the sign for Mile 2.)

Emotional finish

It was around the time that the guy in the wheelchair passed me that the Rocky Theme started to play.  I got my final wind, and started to run faster.  A guy from the 10K group headed for the home stretch, dressed as Captain America.  Shenanigans again. A van of volunteers drove by, with people leaning out the window ringing cow bells and cheering. To the tune of some Celtic Rock I ran into the finish coral. The MC announced my name as I crossed the finish line and I cheered as though I had run a marathon instead of 3 miles.  I looked around and saw the yellow banners and the yellow roses, and felt Dan's presence in the strongest way that I have since he died. That's when I burst into tears.



The truth is that I felt Dan with me for the entire run.  But it was when I was in the coral, listening to the music and getting high five'd by strangers, that I began to understand a little of why this event meant so much to him. No way to get around this- cancer is horrible.  It is isolating.  It cheats.  But with the support of family and friends, or perfect strangers who know what you've gone through, your strength raises exponentially. By living strong, there is hope.

My Boston Maraton Finish