It was a warm Saturday morning in the spring of 1981 that found me in a crowd of about 600 people on the Mississippi River bank. We were all there to run the “Memphis in May 10K.” I had taken up running a few years earlier, but this would be my first race. I didn’t know what to expect, but I was excited to find out. At the starting gun a couple of tower speakers began the theme song from Chariots of Fire, one of my favorite movies. I took that as a good sign and began the 6.2-mile course with a sense of confidence.
I had deliberately positioned myself at the back of the pack. I didn’t want to block any of the serious runners, and I thought it would be fun to pass someone! Sure enough, I did start passing folks. In retrospect, I had made a rookie mistake--I started too fast. I would not be able to keep this pace, but I thought to myself, this will be fun for as long as it lasts! About the two- mile mark I caught up to a squad of Marines who had come down from the Naval station at Millington. When I say Marines, I mean Marines! These guys were all wearing the scarlet shorts and T shirts that boldly declared USMC. Not only that, they were running in formation, singing cadence; they even had their platoon guidon (a small flag designating which platoon they were part of) out front. Two ideas struck me almost simultaneously. If I hung with them, maybe the cadence would draw me along, giving me a much better time than I would have gotten otherwise. I also thought, I know there are television cameras at the finish line. If anything is going to make the 6:00 news it would be these Marines coming across the finish line. I just happened to be wearing my Air Force T shirt. Why not hang with them to the end, and just before the finish line sprint ahead, smiling at the cameras and pointing to the Air Force logo!
I recount that story because recently it struck me, that race bears some similarities to my journey with CBD (Corticobasal Degeneration). The first similarity is that the race then and the race now are a lot longer and harder than I thought they would be. I had run longer distances before I signed up for this 10K, but earlier runs were not at such a punishing pace. What’s more, here I had an audience. I couldn’t just slow to a walk without a lot of folks knowing it. At the very beginning of my race with CBD, before I had major disabilities to deal with, I am sure I put on a brave face. I can handle this. I wanted to face CBD with courage rather than fear. My standard response when people would ask me how I was would be, “I’m ok.” I don’t know how many times I had said that before my wife registered a protest. “You shouldn’t say you are OK--you aren’t.” She was right, but I suppose I didn’t want to admit it. It was the relentless nature of CBD that finally changed my answer. I’m not OK. Just like the 10K, CBD is wearing me down. I have significantly more pain to deal with, a fatigue that I can’t sleep off, and a steadily deteriorating voice which becomes more frustrating almost every day. I have sometimes given in to the downward pull of CBD and wanted to just quit. The pain, the fatigue, and the general hopelessness have led me to say in the darkness, “Lord I am not sure how much more I can take. I am ready for it to end. This would be a good time.” The Lord, in His wisdom and grace, hasn’t answered that prayer.
It is when I am at my worst that something will happen to change things. When I was running that race in Memphis at about the one and half mile mark, I came to the first water station. There were volunteers handing out cups of water to any runner who needed it. I had no idea that there would be these relief stations! I have mentioned earlier that it was a warm spring day--believe me, by this point it was a hotspring day! I needed that water and it got me back on the course with a renewed vigor. The water stations I have benefitted from in my race with CBD have been many and varied. Sometimes it has been through a group of friends taking me out to lunch. Other times refreshment has come from someone unexpectedly assuring me of their concern and prayers. What I have been surprised and uplifted by the most are times that I come across a verse in my Bible that seems like it was written just for me.
Another thing which sustained me in that 10K was the aforementioned Marines. There was just something about them running in formation that was inspiring. I would have said that they were earning a place in my heart until the lieutenant shouted, “Ok men, we are picking up the pace!” That was met with the characteristic “Uh-rah!” Like I’ve said, I started too fast, I was already running faster than my normal pace. How could I possibly run the last mile even faster? Still, I was determined to hang on to that squad. When I think of my run with CBD, I think of people that I’ve met along the way. Just like those Marines, they have pulled me along, made me run further and faster than I thought possible. It began with the medical professionals I have dealt with. Starting with my primary care physician, who shows a genuine empathy for my situation, to all of the neurologists (up to 4 now) who have shepherded me through this process, I have been pulled along. They kept me going. Finally, I have been inspired by the members of the CBD Facebook group. I have read about folks all around the world dealing with my illness. That is a powerful thing when no one I have talked to about my disease has ever heard of Corticobasal Degeneration. I know there are other people in this race with me.
Finally, after I had sweat through everything I had on, and was at the point of exhaustion, the finish line came into view. Try though I might, I had no kick; I could not pass the Marines. They were right ahead of me when we crossed the line. Sure enough, the TV cameras were rolling, and they captured the moment. The next day at church my friend Wayne Bess said, “Hey, I saw you on TV last night!” I had to ask, “How did I look?” Wayne was honest enough to say with a smile, “You looked like you were about to die!” At the moment I stopped running, I thought death was a distinct possibility. I was getting a drink of water when the Marine lieutenant walked up, “Well, Air Force, you hung with the Marines today!” Yes, I did, and I am proud to tell the story.
I was able to hang on in Memphis that day. I am determined to hang on in this endurance run with CBD. I don’t know how far it is to the finish line, but I want to cross it giving everything I have. I want to hang on.
No comments:
Post a Comment