While I'm not exactly blessed with the "gift of gab", it's hard to believe I haven't blogged in over a year. So much has happened since then. Let me catch you up on what has been a wild ride.
DFMC 2011
My involvement with the Dana-Farber Marathon Challenge (DFMC) 2011 charity team began with the chaotic madness of race registration on October 18, 2010, when I was fortunate to circumnavigate a technical glitch in BAA's system to successfully sign up as a qualifier. The resulting backlash from this glitch turned ugly, with so many of the qualifiers shut out of registration misguidedly attacking the BAA Charity Program as one of the main reasons they were left on the sidelines. I found it rather unfortunate these people couldn't comprehend the importance of the program or even see it as a means to gain entry into a race they felt they were entitled to be a part of, instead standing on "principle" they would never run Boston if they couldn't gain entry as a qualifier but, despite trying, I soon learned it was pointless to attempt to sway opinion on such a polarized issue. I quickly moved on.
A few days later, October 22 to be exact, I received confirmation of my acceptance to the 2011 DFMC team. I looked forward to being a part of this group for the second straight year and running in memory or honor of family members and friends who had previously battled cancer or were still in the fight. Unfortunately, the list had grown from the prior year by virtue of my mom being diagnosed with endometrial cancer in July.
Having just run the Columbus Marathon on October 17, I was already in race shape but, as I was working my way back from hernia surgery in early May and wanted to perform at Boston to the best of my ability, I continued in earnest to pound my body into better shape. I completed two more long-distance races before year-end, the inaugural Taterbug 30 Ultramarathon (a 30-mile race, as its name implies) in early November and the St. Jude Memphis Marathon (running as a St. Jude Hero) in early December, before embarking on my official training for Boston.
As my training progressed, so too did my mom's regimen of chemo and radiation. Her battle only provided me with further resolve to train hard and run the best Boston possible. I upped the intensity of my workouts, as well as my running mileage, as January drew to a close. I was feeling good and gaining confidence that a personal best was in store come April 18.
My mom finally completed her treatment on February 15, a cause for major celebration! Unfortunately, the celebration was extremely short-lived, as we learned that same day that my brother's brain cancer had recurred. (He had his first tumor removed in July of 2008.) With a heavy heart, I became further resolved to run my best race ever in honor of what my mom had just been through and what was soon to be in store for my brother, i.e., another surgery.
Somewhere along the way, I pushed my body too far. I had trained for a few weeks with pain in my lower right leg, assuming it was just one of those nagging little injuries that goes with the territory in training for a marathon. I would be in pain for the first few miles of a training run, and then the pain would gradually diminish, so I didn't think it was anything serious; however, as the pain continued to linger, I grew increasingly concerned and sought medical attention.
As it turned out, the news was not good. Roughly five weeks before race day, I was diagnosed with a stress fracture in my right shin and advised by an orthopaedic specialist to cease all forms of weight-bearing activity. No running. No cycling. No fun. I was heartbroken, not because I couldn't run Boston -- that had been accomplished the year before -- but because I wanted to run in recognition of what my mom and brother had been through in their respective battles with cancer.
I moped around in the weeks that followed, struggling unsuccessfully to find an outlet for my running, anything to distract me from thinking about my lost opportunity. I just couldn't let go of the thought of running the marathon, no matter how much I tried. Ultimately, I made the decision to run and, while on a business trip to Thailand, roughly two weeks before race day, I resumed non-impact cardio workouts on the elliptical machine to at least maintain what cardiovascular fitness I had retained at that point. I knew there was no chance of my performing anywhere near my full capabilities, but that wasn't what it was about. I needed to be there for my mom, my brother and all the family members and friends whose battles/sacrifices I wanted to honor.
On race day, despite having a bib number that would allow me to start in the second of three waves of runners, I lined up alongside several of my fellow DFMC teammates in the third wave and had the honor of running the first several miles with them. As expected, the race was a struggle -- I got to roughly mile 19 before I had to resort to a mix of walking and running -- but what matters is that I crossed the finish line. My time was of absolutely no consequence. I had accomplished what I'd set out to do and, in the process, hopefully succeeded in honoring my loved ones.
My doctor never knew I had run the race -- it wasn't something I was willingly going to volunteer -- and eventually cleared me to resume weight-bearing activities in early June. I waited another three weeks before resuming, first starting with some spinning classes and then, in early July, getting back to running. The ramp-up was very slow but, ultimately, I got my weekly mileage to the point where I could train adequately enough to at least finish the Tupelo Marathon on Labor Day weekend. I was on the comeback trail and on my way to continuing pursuit of running a marathon in every state.
DFMC 2012
The application process for the DFMC 2012 team began the Friday before Labor Day, and I submitted my application just a few days later. I was very excited at the prospect of being selected to the team for the third straight year and, for the first time ever, hopefully running Boston at 100 percent. (I ran 2010 with a mild inguinal hernia.) Because of my injuries, I was not confident my Boston-qualifying time from the 2010 Columbus Marathon would allow me to gain entry as a qualified runner, given the BAA's new registration process that was enacted in response to the 2011 registration fiasco, but I had no hesitation about paying the higher entry fee to gain entry through the charity program. In my mind, the battle against cancer had to continue.
Fate took another negative twist just a few days later, when I saw the orthopaedic specialist concerning pain I was experiencing in my right hip. X-rays showed a significant loss of cartilage in the hip, and I was diagnosed with osteoarthritis. The doctor broke the bad news that, for all intents and purposes, I had no business running marathons. I was, needless to say, crushed ... but I took his advice, despite his cautioning that the prognosis wouldn't change, and sought a second opinion from a hip specialist in Indy. About two weeks prior to that visit, I received the expected news from the BAA that I didn't gain entry into the 2012 race as a qualifier, having missed the cut-off for my gender/age by a mere 21 seconds; however, three days later, I was accepted to the DFMC team. I held off on finalizing my commitment, pending what the specialist had to say.
As expected, the second opinion from the specialist confirmed the outlook/prognosis I received from the generalist just a few weeks earlier. I was told surgery could be performed to smooth out the rough parts of the bone and remove the torn cartilage, and that might buy me another year or two, but the doctor didn't recommend it, and I agreed it seemed rather iffy to go under the knife for a "might" and to forgo my plans for Boston 2012. I was not specifically instructed that I couldn't run, but it was made clear that continuing to do so would hasten the need for hip replacement surgery. I had some decisions to make.
In actuality, the decision was not a difficult one. I chose to move forward with plans to run with DFMC for one final year. It will be my "farewell tour", of sorts ... one last chance to run the race I love for the people I love ... to run again with my fellow teammates, some of the most dedicated, compassionate and hard-working people I know and love ... to close out my long-distance-running career (and perhaps my any-distance running career) on a positive note by dealing cancer one final blow.
... so here I am, coming to grips with the finality of what has been a tumultuous ride but one considered well worth it through my involvement with DFMC and the work they do to improve outcomes for cancer patients. Realistically, I know there will be no (Brett) Favre-like comeback for me. 2012 will be my swan song, at least from a running perspective. Thereafter, I will have to pursue other avenues of continuing my "mission" in the fight against cancer. I will succeed, of that I am confident.
Training will be a challenge. I won't be able to train according to traditional practice. Every run will be painful, and the lingering soreness and discomfort in my hip and groin will not only prevent me from running on back-to-back days in most cases but also result in many nights of restless sleep ... but, again, the end justifies the means. I am blessed to have this final opportunity, and I intend to relish every day in this journey, including even the worst of them. As the phrase in the title track of this post goes, "My body tells me 'no', but I won't quit 'cause I want more." I want more cancer patients to have happy outcomes and, for that, I will endure whatever I have to and run another "slow" marathon, if that's how things turn out because, in the long run, it's not important where you finish but that ultimately do finish.
If you're reading this, I greatly appreciate the investment in time you've made in getting to the end of what is, admittedly, a lengthy post. I ask you to make one more investment by supporting my final run at cancer by visiting http://rundfmc.org/2012/tonyb to make a financial donation, 100 percent of which goes to fund vital research that will save many lives.
Thanks!
Tony
"Title Track"
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