Miss Green Goes to Mars: September 2015

There are times in life that cause a person to pause, reflect, and grow. Yesterday was one of those times for me.

Sunday September 20, 2015 has been on our calendar as the date for the 25th Annual Fox Cities Marathon. Our son Luke decided about two months ago that he would participate, and he began training in earnest.

Our house was a bee hive of activity yesterday morning (at 5:30, no less!) as the five of us got up and ready to take Luke to the start line. Ben drove home from Madison the night before, so he, Mark, our daughter-in-law Bailey, myself, and Luke got up and at 'em!

We dropped Luke off a short distance from the starting line. He hugged and kissed Bailey, we wished him well, and watched him walk toward the beginning of the 26.2 mile course, a garbage bag over his shoulders for warmth. I felt a lot of pride as I watched him walk away.

With cowbells and signs of support in hand, along with coffee and sustenance for our journey, we drove just beyond mile three and waited. As the lead runners appeared and the sun rose higher in the early morning sky, I said a prayer of thanks for the good weather and asked God to be with Luke. Before long, Luke came toward us looking strong and running at his expected pace. We rang our bells and cheered loudly! After he passed us, we jumped in the car and headed to our next vantage point, just beyond mile six. Again, Luke looked strong and on pace, smiling as he ran by (see the pictures below). All of us were excited, happy, and feeling good about Luke's race so far.

At mile nine, after climbing the long Park Street hill in Combined Locks, Luke still had a smile, but seemed to have less of a skip in his step which I attributed to that brutal hill. We only captured his 'backside' as he passed us, but the local newspaper captured our front sides, cheering, clapping, and jumping for our Luke. :)

We saw Luke next at the corner of Kimberly Ave. and Wilson street, just about mile number eleven. When I saw Luke's face, it reminded me of one of his high school Cross Country meets. Luke was a Junior that year and early in the race, ran square into an electrical box on the course. He did not know how serious his injury was and did not stop running until his coaches pulled him off the course. The cut on his thigh would later require several stitches. None of us knew what had happened; we just knew he was behind his expected race time. When Luke's face came into view at that CC meet, I commented to Mark that it looked like something was wrong. And when he got close enough for us to see his whole body, we could see the blood running down his leg and suspected he had fallen or gotten spiked. I had that same sinking feeling yesterday when I saw Luke's face at mile eleven. The pictures below tell the story. Something wasn't right and it showed.

We got into our car and drove home for a quick bathroom break and coffee refill. Back on the course at about mile thirteen, Luke's pace had slowed considerably and we could see that he was now walking. Mark went to meet him and brought watermelon and bottled water. As they approached where we were standing, I could feel a cloud of dread hovering. We spoke words of encouragement to Luke, telling him to drink and to eat a little; we said "You can do it" and "You'll find it. Just walk it out. You're okay." I said a silent prayer, asking God to give Luke courage and strength.

When we got back in the car, Mark said that Luke told him the hills really took it out of him. He said his head was pounding and his stomach was upset. Luke told Mark he had thrown up just after we had seen him on Wilson Street. I think I said what everyone in the car was thinking. "Luke is not going to want to stop." Mark's response was something like, "Ya, but how long do you let him go before it gets dangerous?"

We drove to a spot below the College Avenue Bridge in Appleton, again to offer Luke encouragement and support and be there should he decide not to finish. I think we were near mile fourteen. This time, we could see that Luke was running again. My heart got a little lighter. Mark joined him on the road, and again the local newspaper captured the moment; a wonderful photo of a father and his son (I love this picture!). The report from Luke this time was a little better. His head wasn't pounding and he was able to keep the watermelon down. He was feeling a little better. Maybe he had gotten through the worst of it. With tears in my eyes, I prayed a prayer of gratitude.

Our joy was short-lived. At about mile fifteen, Luke was once again walking and working really hard. We encouraged him the best we could. I thought to myself how can he keep going--there are nine more miles to go?

At about mile seventeen, it was my turn to walk with Luke. I took him a banana (he had told us previously that his calves were cramping). He ate about two bites; I don't really remember what I said to him. I wish I could say I waxed philosophical and wise, but that was not the case. Pretty sure I just said, "You are doing it, Luke. Glad your head isn't hurting. Keep it up. You can do it!"

We hurried to mile nineteen. Mark and Ben took off running to meet Luke almost immediately after we parked the car. Bailey and I stood on the corner and cheered for the runners as they passed. We made small talk, but mostly worried about Luke. After fifteen minutes or more, Bailey and I thought maybe we should get in the car and head in the direction the runners were coming from. Just as we had that thought, Mark called Bailey's cell phone and said they still hadn't seen Luke. Just then, Mark said there he is and told Bailey to wait on the line. A short minute later, Mark told Bailey he and the boys would walk to us. Luke had decided to stop.

Nineteen miles and it was over. There would be no fan fair at the finish line for Luke; no finishers medal or t-shirt; no bragging rights and happy photos on social media. No feeling of satisfaction in spite of complete exhaustion. Just a hollow feeling of defeat; of not being able to finish something you started.

I've seen lots of posts on Facebook in the last 24 hours about people finishing the marathon and half marathon; pictures of the "angels" who ran for those too sick or unable to run; many wonderful photos of all kinds of joy. And please don't get me wrong. I enjoy seeing those photos and hearing about those experiences, all worthy of their respective 'posts.' But because I knew of one runner who didn't finish, I was more sensitive this year to the fact that stories or photos about those who didn't finish were missing.

One caption caught my eye early this morning. It read "Running slow is not a character flaw...quitting is." I understand that if quitting becomes an attitude and a habit for a person, that person has a character flaw. But on this particular morning, after watching my first born son give everything his 24 year old body would allow him to give and still not be able to finish the marathon, I wanted to scream at the computer screen--not a character flaw, no indeed! On the contrary, I think Luke's decision to step away from that race showed the strength of his character.

On the one hand, it was probably an easy decision given how he was feeling and the shape his body was in, but on the other hand, it quite possibly was one of the hardest, most humbling decisions he has made in awhile. I submit that it took more wisdom, courage, and character to say "This just doesn't make any sense. I need to stop," than it would have to continue toward the finish line.

So this post is my way of honoring one Fox Cities Marathon runner who gave it everything he had. He struggled and fought hard, had the will and determination to accomplish the goal, but whose body, in the end, said no, this is not your day. One runner who had the wisdom, courage, and character to know his limit...and the humility to act. You're one of my heroes, Luke, and I love you!