This weekend I had the privilege of attending the
2008 San Diego Rock n' Roll Marathon and cheering on our latest batch of
Santa Barbara's Team in Training (or TnTers, as we are so fondly called). This was my first trip back to San Diego since running the same marathon with TnT last year, so I was particularly looking forward to a nostalgic weekend. In the end, however, the nostalgia would fall second to to the amazing overwhelm I experienced from the sidelines as the sea of purple rushed passed me at every vantage point.
I was overwhelmed by their energy. Overwhelmed by their passion. Overwhelmed with a deep sense of appreciation and respect for each individual in purple. I was blown away by the dedication to the cause and floored by the thousands of names written on skin, jerseys, and ribbons of those who are fighting, have won, and have lost their battle with blood cancer. I can't think of a time when I have ever been more proud to be a part of something...part of the purple.
Like every TnT event, there is a huge pasta party the night before to celebrate and prepare for the race. Every pasta party event has an honored teammate that addresses the crowd - someone who has experienced their own battle of cancer and tells their story of survival. (This was my third pasta party, so that had been my experience.) But, this year's honored teammate's story was a little different. His name was Gordie, and three years ago he was diagnosed with Chronic Myelogenous Leukemia. He went on to explain that he has no bone marrow donor match, so his disease is not curable.
"So," he said, "I can’t give you a heroic story about how I beat cancer because I haven’t. I still have it."
His words struck me deeply. And, to my amazement, he went on to announce that he was running the next day's marathon. In fact, he had several TnT events under his belt including a triathalon and a half-ironman. He explained that, at some point during his illness, he got tired of being sick and decided to be more active. I had trouble processing what he was saying - so, he's sick and he's still training for and participating in these events? I mean, I have a hard time going to Saturday morning practice if I have a couple drinks the night before, but this guy has leukemia and he's running a marathon??!! There's that word again...just overwhelming.
Gordie ended his amazing speech (which, by the way, was adapted from his original story downloadable
here) by explaining that the life expectancy of his disease has historically been 3-5 years from diagnosis, and he was at year three. Funding for cancer research and development has extended Gordie's life, and much of that funding is thanks to the dedicated and passionate TnTers in that room as well as those of old. I continue to be blown away by the impact this team has on the world. That's right...the entire world. At this rate, a cure for cancer has got to be just around the corner...what an amazing thought to ponder.
The next day us support staff began to line the street at about 6:30am. The air was crisp and, though the race hadn't even begun, the energy in the air was high. I don't mean to get metaphysical in my description, but really there is no other way to describe it. People talk about these "energies" or "auras" that are all around us. If you don't believe in that I suggest you spectate a marathon, just once. It's the strongest sensation of high energy I've ever felt. Last year, I thought it was my anxiety and butterflies surrounding the thought of running the race. But this year was absolutely no different...it was intense!
As the Santa Barbara Team's Historian Captain, my job was to snap as many photos of our crew as possible. As I struggled with picking out our participants in the crowd of 22,000, I was overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the athletes. In particular, the energy projected from the Santa Barbara team, who I have been fortunate enough to spend some time training with over the past five months. Their enthusiasm was a consistent one that I saw at mile 4, 14, and 23. I thought of what a tremendous feat this marathon was for all of them, and saw each participant soaking up every minute of it. Try to imagine running or walking for 4, 5, 6...even 7 hours straight and still smiling from ear to ear at the finish line. Incredible.
I'll be honest, I was choked up. And, as if that wasn't enough, as I was skimming the crowd with my camera my lens just happened to catch Gordie just as he was running by. At that moment, he threw up his arm in victory of his fourth mile...a moment I just happened to capture on film. That was like the icing on the cake of my spectating experience. There's so much to be cherished about this amazing team. There's so much to learn from survivors like Gordie. There's so much to be grateful for in a world where there are so many people doing extraordinary things, like running 26.2 miles, to fight cancer.
Gordie celebrates crossing the 4th mile markerLast year, I remember being so grateful that I got to wear the purple TnT jersey during the race. It meant I wasn't running the race for or by myself. It meant that I was a part of something extraordinary. This year, though I didn't have the opportunity to cross that finish line, my appreciation for the purple stood strong. I am proud to know these dedicated and passionate athletes. I am proud to be a part of this team.
And, most of all, I couldn't be more proud to be part of the purple.
» View photos online at sbtnt.smugmug.com/. All proceeds benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society
