For many of the athletes, the path to the games was over a decade long, often battling physical injuries and personal tragedies along the way. Once there, all their effort, time and sacrifices come down to one contest, a make or break to achieve their Olympic goal. I can’t image the pressure of that competition, the overwhelming joy of beating their Olympic goal or the crushing despair of failing to perform to their own expectations.
A couple of years ago I set a goal of running one more Boston Marathon before Parkinson’s stole my ability to do it. I had run Boston at least once in every decade since my 20’s and this would be a chance to sneak one in in my 70’s. For two years I trained daily, watched my diet (except for ice cream), and planned out the logistics for the race (hotels, getting an official entry number, etc.). A little over 2 months before the race, kidney problems and a bout of sepsis robbed me of my shot. I remember the overwhelming feeling of disappointment. I know some people will say “get over it, it’s just a race”, and I have (offering them a polite middle finger). But just like the Olympic athlete, win or lose, we can’t understand, really understand, what it’s like unless we’ve been there.
That’s true
for families of children with cancer as well.
All the stories I can give of the challenges the families face, the
months and years of worries and bills and pain and disappointments pale before
the reality of living it. It’s also true
that the joy and relief of successful results or unexpected support when you really
need it most is beyond words. That’s what Help in the Nick of Time tries to
do., to be there to help when it’s needed most.
As for my running, I’m still slogging away (literally slogging this winter). It may not be the Boston Marathon, but I will be out chasing my Marathon Challenge goal to support Help in the Nick of Time.
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