San Diego Rock n Roll Half Marathon Gear

For the last three seasons, I’ve trained for a marathon and two half-marathons with Team in Training. We raise money for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society in exchange for the training. Losing my mom-in law to Leukemia in 2009 was the catalyst.

Over the years we’ve formed long-lasting relationships and solidified existing ones. It’s been an amazing journey of love, laughter, grieving, healing, and growing.

Saturday evening, we attended an inspiration dinner and learn that collectively we raised nine million dollars through this race alone! We would hear from John “The Penguin” Bingham who would proceed to share hilarious stories about his journey in running. We would also hear from a father who shared a very moving story about his daughter’s battle with leukemia. Kimberly Joy Costa lost her battle at the age of nineteen, but left behind a legacy and wisdom far beyond her years.  During her speech as high school Valedictorian, she shared ten life lessons. One of my favorites is the following:
 
“Touch as many lives as you can. Every time you meet someone new, you leave a little bit of yourself with them. They are affected by you. The more people you meet, the more complete both their and your lives are because of how you have been affected by each other. Think of the possibilities”  It’s a philosophy I already embrace.

Sunday morning the alarm went off at 3:10 a.m. and my routine began.  I put on Moms Tiffany heart necklace and Smoky Topaz pendant. In my hair were four green ribbons. The green represented our team color and each ribbon had the name of a person I was running for. Mom, my reason for joining, Craig, my friend’s son who was just declared cancer-free from Hodgkin’s Lymphoma. Della, my friend and former co-worker who lost her battle with leukemia in 2009, and George, a good friend’s father who was just diagnosed with leukemia two weeks ago.

I carried the thoughts of several more people with me. Each week we shared “Mission Moments” where we shared our stories. They ranged from heart-breaking to inspiring. Our team mates included survivors as well as people undergoing treatment.

My husband and biggest supporter was our race day chauffer. I piled into the car with him and our youngest son who would also be racing and we headed off to pick up two other friends. By 6:15 in the morning, we would hear the gun go off and we would cross the start line corral by corral. Our son being sixteen, much faster, and a member of his High School’s Cross Country and Track Team would be in corral number three. I in contrast, would be in corral twenty-two.

I took a puff of my inhaler trying to ignore the fact that my asthma had been trying to rear its ugly head this weekend. I swallowed a salt packet, consumed an energy gel and took a long drink of water. A new friend and team mate was to one side of me, another friend from season one on another and a friend from last also nearby. She was injured and unable to run last year, so this would be her first half-marathon. I received a text from my long-time friend and recent running partner wishing me luck. She was in a different corral.

13.1 miles later we would all cross the finish line at various times. Along the way, the San Diego Rock n Roll Marathon and Half Marathon would be filled with live bands, my favorite Kodo Drummers, and cheering crowds. We would run over a freeway and end in the parking lot of SeaWorld.

At the end of the day, we shared an amazing journey with friends while helping an incredible organization. As I was falling asleep Sunday night, I couldn’t help but remember Kimberly’s words “Touch as many lives as you can”. I think each of us in our own way, did just that. I know that my own life has been touched profoundly and I will always try to live up to Kimberly’s words.

As my half-marathon approaches I think of my Mom in Law  who was my inspiration for running. I wrote this while I was healing from her death.

The Little Blue Box

A Tiffany heart necklace sits regally inside the little blue box. My husband and I gave it to my mom-in-law (mom) for her 75th birthday. She was in remission from leukemia. That year I wanted to give her something out of the ordinary – she was a very out of the ordinary woman and I loved her dearly.  We searched and searched but nothing ever seemed quite right. We decided to stop by Tiffany’s on a whim and it was there that we finally found something that spoke to us – what a better gift than to give her our heart.

Today as I opened the box there was still a faint smell of her favorite perfume. It made me smile and get teary-eyed all at once. I took out the small heart, still without its engraving. It took so long to find the perfect gift that we weren’t able to get it engraved in time for her birthday, but we gave it to her with the promise that the next time she came to San Diego, I would have it engraved.

I’ll never forget the look on her face as she unwrapped the gift and saw the little blue box. The look of surprise on her face was absolutely priceless and is forever ingrained in my memory. For a moment there was no thought of remission or disease, just enjoyment.  Once she put the necklace on, she never took it off other than when it was required for x-rays.

We had a great visit in January of 2009. She was no longer in remission but her only complaint was that when she had her last set of x-rays the Tech made her take off her necklace and the chain became tangled. It lay crumpled on a table next to her. I picked it up and silently began to work on it throughout our visit. The chain was so small and delicate that I was afraid I would break one of the links. Mom noticed my struggle and said “it’s ok Hon, I’ll do it later”.  After losing so many people I’ve developed a real aversion to the word “later” – or maybe I’m just stubborn. At some point I finally untangled the chain and Mom asked if I would please put it on her.  I was as happy to have untangled it as she was to be wearing it again.

Four days later, I received a call letting me know that she passed away unexpectedly. At her celebration of life, my sister-in-law handed me a little blue box. She let me know that Mom was wearing it when she passed away and knew that she would want me to have it. I’d been able to maintain my composure until that moment. I flashed back to untangling the chain and in the midst of my pain I also felt a tiny bit of peace.

In June of 2009 year I completed my first marathon. It was to benefit the Leukemia and Lymphoma society and I did it to honor Mom’s life. I’m not a runner by any stretch of the imagination and have asthma so it was a challenge but nothing compared to the challenge she had with Leukemia. The little blue box sat on my dresser since the day it was given to me. I was going to engrave it but when I opened the box all I could smell was her perfume. I didn’t want to take it in because I knew they would clean it and I would lose that tiny but powerful connection.  I hadn’t wanted to wear it because at that time it just didn’t feel right, I’m not really even quite sure why. One day before the race I passed the little blue box and smiled. I knew exactly what I was going to do.

The morning of the race finally came. I put on my running clothes, walked up to the dresser and picked up the little blue box.  I took off the lid and opened the small leather pouch. The fading smell of mom’s perfume slowly drifted towards me. This time it didn’t make me sad, it gave me comfort. I put the heart on my own chain next to a smoky topaz pendant she gave me long before she became ill. For me, those two pieces felt like the blending of our time together, the happy times and the struggle with leukemia. I wanted to have her with me as I crossed the finish line. On Mile 26 as the finish line was in sight, I reached for the necklace and held it tight as I silently said “I love you and miss you mom, this one’s for you”.

In June of 2010, I ran a half-marathon in Moms memory and will again this June 5th, 2011. This year will be in her memory and in honor of my friend Craig who is currently battling Hodgkins Lymphoma (blood cancer). It’s my way of doing something positive to honor mom’s life and Craig’s battle while helping others.

Time to literally walk the talk! I’m going to be walking the San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll Marathon in memory of my mom-in-law, Bryna Kerska, whom I mentioned in an earlier post.

I have asthma and even though I am active and walk on a regular basis, this distance while trying to make good time, will be a stretch for me. I’ve signed up through Team in Training and am looking forward to the kick-off tonight along with the official start of training on Saturday.

While I still grieve the loss, taking action and fundraising to help find a cure for leukemia and other blood cancers allows me to focus on something positive while stretching my own personal boundaries. I’m looking forward to participating in a worthy cause and would love your support along the way. The donation is 100% tax deductible and any amount helps. Corporate sponsorships are welcome!

I was so prepared to start 2009 on top of my game, my “stop making resolutions” musings were waiting for me to hit the post button, I was happy, rested and into the full swing of a new year.

On January 3rd, I received a call letting me know that my beloved mom-in-law passed away. I was originally going to say that she lost her three-year battle to leukemia but I think it’s far more accurate to say that she won her wish to live her life the way she intended to for as long as possible.

This vibrant and courageous woman who also happened to be a breast cancer survivor, was every bit a “mom” to me — not an “in law”.  I’ll miss her incredibly even though I realize so much from our relationship will always remain. From the beginning, she always treated me, and made me feel as though I were her daughter by birth. We had a bond that grew deeply over a period of seventeen and a half years.

The first time we ever met, I was afraid she was going to see my hands shaking or hear my knees knocking but in five minutes, I felt as though we’d known each other a lifetime. She was always gracious yet said exactly what was on her mind –one of the few people I’ve met who was completely comfortable in their own skin. Whether you agreed or disagreed with something she said, you loved her for who she was and she always loved you back.

Our last visit was much like our first, filled with laughter and happiness. She was at home and feeling well enough to join my husband, sister in law, father in law and myself for lunch at her favorite restaurant. She was in rare form and when our visit ended we hugged goodbye as we always did. That memory or a great conversation by phone is how I know she’d want us to remember her. We received the call three days after that visit.

The essence of what I share with you on this blog boils down to your mindset — which effects how you approach life, how you react to change and how you “reframe” your views. These things all determine how you view your life and all of its infinite possibilities. Only you are in your head and only you control those thoughts and views.

You could look at the situation and see it as unfair and be consumed with anger and sorrow over what was taken away or lost rather than the greatness of what was experienced during a lifetime. It might even be easier to fall into that thinking if you had lost as many people as I have in my lifetime. A different mindset allows you to see the beauty in each encounter with another human being. Whether the relationship ends due to death or some other separation, I believe each and every one of those encounters leaves us with the gift of a lesson.  It’s up to you to find each lesson. Perhaps it’s unconditional love, compassion, forgiveness, or perhaps acceptance.  It doesn’t mean that you won’t mourn the loss, simply that you’ll also be able to see the gain.

“What we have once enjoyed
we can never lose.

All that we love deeply becomes part of us”

Helen Keller