We arrived in Anchorage on a beautiful Thursday.  We dawdled around trying to take in the sights and relax for the first two days.  We had dinner at a place recommended by a friend, called Humpy’s.  Great food, great atmosphere, if you’re ever in Alaska, I recommend it whole-heartedly.  

Friday, we had our great pasta dinner to kick off our Team in Training activities.  During the dinner, we were informed that as a whole Team in Training for this race had raised over 5 million dollars to fight Leukemia, Lymphoma and other blood related cancers.  It’s awesome to have contributed my small portion to that success.  Our “keynote” speaker was a woman who lost her husband to leukemia a few years ago.  She’d never been an athlete, she barely ran down the block to get her daughter but after her husband passed away, she saw this as a great way to support the Society, and honor her husband.  She was out there with us on Saturday, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she was faster than I.  J

The race morning was damp.  But the rain held off… until about a minute before the start.  I ran the first ten miles with my Seattle posse’, we were chuggin’ along, whipping out nine and a half minute miles steadily.  But at ten miles, my stress fracture took over.  No, my shin was awesome, it didn’t hurt a bit but the lack of training that it had caused slowed me immensely.  As I ran, with my thoughts racing to those names on my back, feeling thankful that my pain was gone, and knowing that those honored teammates where the ones who really had battled through the tough times, a woman ran beside me, we sort of shuffled along for a quarter mile or so and I said, “It’s still better than a spinal tap!”  She said, “I know, I’ve had them!”  She was a survivor, out there on the course, turning in mile after mile, proving that cancer may take some things away, but it also puts new things in place.  My next few miles were around 11 minutes.  At mile 15, I caught up with one of the “Seattle Posse’” and we ran together till the end.  As we rounded the corner at mile 25, at Westchester Lagoon, we ran past a woman, who’d obviously been standing in the rain for hours holding up a sign that said, “I’m a Leukemia Survivor.”  My thoughts we gone, it was all I could do to reach out and give her a quick five as we ran past, and thank her for coming out and supporting us.  As we came into the high school stadium and crossed the finish line, it was such an awesome feeling of relief, pain, elation, frustration and pride.  Relief, because it was done.  Pain, because my body had been stretched to its limits.  Elation, because I had reached a goal that I set a long time ago.  Frustration, because it was 5 hours and not the 4 hours that my mind still thinks my body can do.  And pride because we were able to do this.  This race wasn’t about me.  It was about the 32 names on my back and the hundreds of cancer patients you’ve come in contact with.  

Thank you again for your support.  I don’t know what I’ll do next year, but it will no doubt be something that will push me to extremes.

Here are a couple of pictures from the weekend…

Here's another letter I sent at the end of my 2005 season...

With your help, I did it.  I really and truly did it.  I finished the Mayor’s Midnight Sun Marathon in Anchorage, Alaska on June 18, 2005.  I didn’t win.  Ok, don’t feel bad for me, because in my opinion even the guy who finished first didn’t win.  The ones who win are the people who’s lives have been saved and improved through the research conducted by the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.  People like my honored teammate Stacey, who is officially cured of her leukemia, and Megan who is thriving during her treatment for leukemia because of a drug called Gleevec, developed by Dr. Brian Druker with funds from the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society.   The winners are people like my mom, and  the others  who have been touched by these and other cancers.

Running a marathon is an adventure I never thought I could do.  Throughout my training there were trials and tribulations that continued to raise my doubts.  The support I received during the entire process helped me through the training.  Knowing that there were 32 names on my back during the race helped me keep going on June 18^th.  Here is a copy of the sign I wore.

 

I want you to know how much I appreciate your support.  Yes, my body was sore after this event, but I know that my pain is nothing compared to the pain that cancer patients go through every day during treatment.  I pray that one day Team in Training will only exist as a way for crazy people like me to train for endurance events, and that the money we raise will go to the other valuable charities in our community.

God bless you!