Having run 5 marathons, 3 ultramarathons, and many races of shorter lengths, I've been thinking a lot about all the time and effort I put into training and racing.  It seems to me that running is largely a solitary endeavor, and I feel somewhat selfish devoting such a significant amount of time to it.  Despite constant support and encouragement from my wife Tami, I worry that the commitment to heavy training for longer distances is in conflict with the needs of my family.  I also feel that the effort I put into running isn't generating much value for anyone other than myself.  So I've decided to use my attempt at 100 miles as a vehicle to help support a great organization, honor my parents, Howard and Phyllis Friedman, and achieve a goal that I find very compelling.

   

May 31st, 2010 is the 10-year anniversary of my dad's death from cancer.  It's very sad to think about marking another year since his death, when he was a man who lived life to the fullest.  He loved his career as a junior high and high school math teacher, and helped to impress upon me and my siblings the importance of a good education. For over 30 years he dedicated himself to helping students achieve their goals -- even after retirement from his public school role, he taught part-time at the college level and tutored students of all ages.  He enjoyed travel, good food, and new experiences.  He was a loyal friend and was always there to support people in need.  "Make a difference" was the guidance he gave me at several critical junctures in both my personal and professional life.  I strive to emulate his values and his charitable spirit. 

 

My dad was originally diagnosed with colon cancer in 1995, but after surgery was fine for a few years.  Then during a routine scan in 1998, doctors found his cancer had spread to his lungs and eventually to his brain.  Unfortunately surgery was no longer an option.  He was ill for 14 months, and underwent chemotherapy and Gamma Knife radiation treatments.  He lost his hair and some of his independence and mobility, but never his love of life or his sense of humor.

 

My two older sons, Ryan and Bradley, were 6 and 4 years old when he passed away, but for the early years of their lives he was the ideal of a loving and caring grandfather.  My sons have many wonderful memories of him, such as our annual family weekends, hiking at The Shaker Lakes Nature Center, picking out Hot Wheels cars at the toy store, riding downtown on the rapid, eating at Yours Truly at Shaker Square, and playing games.  They have shared all of these memories and more with their younger brother, Cameron, who was born about 6 months after my dad's death and therefore never met his grandfather.

  

While The Gathering Place didn't exist for most of my dad's illness, my parents became aware of it in early 2000, shortly after it was first founded. Although they didn't have much chance to take advantage of its services, later that year my mom learned that a friend (who had also lost her husband to cancer) was voluteering there.  So she decided to also donate her time in support of others dealing with cancer, and has been a valued volunteer for 9 years now.  In addition to helping The Gathering Place family, she has made many lasting friendships through her work.  

  

Also during the time of my father's illness, my mother-in-law, Claudia Keilin, was diagnosed with lymphoma.  She has undergone a range of treatments during the last two years and we are extremely fortunate that she is doing very well.  During this time she has also been using services provided by The Gathering Place to assist in managing her treatment and connecting with others who have a similar diagnosis.   

     

Watching my dad (and more recently my mother-in-law) go through treatments for cancer, I see a number of parallels with ultramarathons, and particularly with my upcoming 100-mile race.  Both endeavors require endurance -- it's a long journey and progress often seems slow.  Both have incredibly wonderful high points, but also extreme lows where you think about giving up.  The highs and the lows happen in cycles throughout the journey and they come at unpredictable times.  And both challenges are as much (if not more) about attitude and mental strength as they are about physical strength.  Of course, it would be ridiculous to suggest that the physical and mental challenge of a foot race, no matter how long, is as intense or important as a battle with cancer.  Running 100 miles is just a vehicle to raise visibility for a good cause, but I am thinking of my upcoming effort as somehow symbolic of what recipients of The Gathering Place services experience every day.

  

I'm just one person, and I've had two family members diagnosed with cancer.  These days, I find that almost everyone I know has a family member or friend or co-worker battling cancer.  When I think about the number of individuals and families dealing with this challenge and the importance and quality of the services provided by The Gathering Place, I feel compelled to do something to help sustain and expand its impact.  I'm hoping that through this simple fundraising campaign I can make a small difference in that regard.  Please join me in supporting this important organization.  I appreciate your sponsorship of 100 Miles For Life via a contribution to The Gathering Place.