My Why.

One day can change your life. Believe it. It’s true. Life is made up of many one days. The events that occur in a mere conversation, a 2 minute toast, or even a fond farewell can alter the course of your life.

May 26th 2007. I awoke that morning feeling old and on the verge of my quarter life crisis. You know how everyone asks you if you feel older on your birthday? Well, although the sun was shining and the forecast was projected to be perfect for our family’s birthday gathering, something felt different. I was the dreaded 25 – a quarter century old.
My ridiculous mid-20s self pity quickly faded after arriving at our family’s home in Lake Geneva. Something still felt different about this day. This inherent sense clung to me like this was one of those days - one of those days when you want each moment to linger a bit longer so you can capture it clearly enough to brand it into that personal album I like to call memory.

The Lake. This is the place where my grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins alike would gather every summer weekend throughout my youth. This was the home where we would escape our daily lives, share meals together, and enjoy summer. A place to revert back to a childlike state – swimming, boating, tubing, waterskiing, and if the spirit moved you, playing in the sandpit from morning to dusk. Tradition proved over time that dinner was not over until, Grandpa toasted to the best day ever (often accompanied by a hip-hip-hooray for the gracious family members that voluntarily created the culinary creations of the evening).

May 26th, 2007 (continued). What I have failed to mention is why this particular birthday weekend was meaningful. I have failed to mention the life long birthday bond my Grandfather and I had shared for the previous 24 years. You see, my Grandfather was someone who valued punctuality – often times arriving nearly an hour early for family gatherings. This is something I apparently honored as an infant - arriving a mere 4 hours before the clock would strike midnight on his 65th birthday. Hence, he assumed the role of birthday mentor, by teaching me the little “need to knows” of birthday etiquette (like perfecting the skill of stealing frosting from our cake without Mom noticing). He was the one I got to sit next to as we blew out our candles year after year. And this year, although bravely fighting the cancer that would ultimately end his life, he was resiliently celebrating his 90th year.

The Toast. 90 years old and nearing a century. The family gathered to share memories, laughter, tears, and the joy of each other’s company. When given the opportunity to share a few words with Grandpa and the family, I rose to the occasion to divulge what I had been hoping to tell him at a later time, in a likely more private setting. Grandpa was someone who lived his life going the distance. Now it was my turn to do just that in his honor. After reflecting on some funny and endearing thoughts, I chose to share with my Grandfather that in a few short months, I would be running the Chicago Marathon (10.07.07) as an American Cancer Society charity runner and ultimate Boston Marathon qualifier. We shared a hug as a few heartfelt tears lingered on our cheeks - sealing my promise to him.

As the evening crept to a close, the sun set over the calming waters of Lake Geneva - settling at last behind the tree lined horizon. The family retreated to their rooms for the evening, and I nestled into bed with an absurd heaviness weighing my thoughts. I knew that day was one day.

May 26 – 27, 2007 was the last birthday we shared together, and the last time I saw my Grandpa.

A best day ever.

My Why – June 24, 2007. 13.1 miles in 1 hour and 40 minutes (7:37 pace). With my friend Elliott by my side, and Jenny cheering from the sidelines, we crossed the finish line. Only a few moments passed before I knew I needed to call him to share the news. Grandma answered the phone and quickly passed the phone along to Grandpa. He was proud, and I assured him I was on my way to achieving my promise to him. 2 days later – he was gone.

October 7th, 2007. The mercury hit 76 degrees as I sat on the pavement in my start corral. The Chicago Marathon had arrived, and unlike previous years, the meteorologists were predicting extreme heat and humidity in the midst of a Chicago October. As 40,000 of us took to the roads, the heat continued to climb. Although enduring ongoing injuries and cortisone injections, I had the clarity of knowing I was right where I needed to be – running mile after magnificent Chicago mile.

100 degrees – that was the temperature with the heat index as I pushed on to mile 26 – I had a goal – I had a promise. With little over 3 tenths of a mile to go, the course was flooded with police officers. We were forced to stop. The marathon was canceled. At that point, the officers, due to our proximity to the finish line, allowed us to proceed at our own risk.

I continued on – up the Roosevelt bridge and down to Columbus Drive. One left turn, and I would be home free - 200 yards to the finish line. That one left turn is when my IT Band Syndrome caught up with me – an excruciating snapping sensation running up and down the outer side of my knees and quads. Defeated. Defeated by injury, and I knew those last 200 yards would take an eternity. Curled over in pain, supporters yelling words of encouragement, my body was frozen in place. After what felt like hours (in reality a few minutes), a thought permeated my mind, “Couldn’t have made it easy on me, huh, Grandpa?” My legs then began to move, one in front of the other, and as I reached for the finish, his overwhelming response ebbed through me, “Anything worth it – isn’t.” As I iced my legs that afternoon -my then 10 month old nephew "helping" - I looked around at the people who were there that day. My family (Jenny, as well, who in many ways will forever be my sister), and thought this is where it all started.

Family.

10.07.07 - a best day ever.

3:52:41
20 minutes slower than projected
10 minutes shy of Boston Marathon Qualification

One day.

My Why.

I know I run like a girl. Try to keep up.