
The Marathon Continues
Donation protected
I ran my first marathon last year. I did it. It was an enormous challenge but, I finished. As many of you reading this know, I ran in honor and in support of my wife, Shari, as she perseveres on her own marathon with lung cancer. I ran in solidarity with her, and I ran to raise funds for us (with a portion of those funds offered as a donation to the LUNGEVITY Foundation).
A year later, I am resisting having to write once more; to have to hold out my hand to ask for help. I don’t want to have to. I am tired and weary of all this. But the struggle, the battle, or whatever you want to call it (there seem to be no good words for it), continues. I am already five weeks into my training. Yesterday, the eight miles I ran in the sun felt like its own marathon. I usually run with music in my ears but, on this day, my phone was acting wonky so, I ran the entire distance with only my thoughts and my breath. I urged myself to finish the eight miles by telling myself, “You do this, you get to be proud of yourself”. I would rather run another 8 miles today in the hot sun than endure the vulnerability of, once again, asking for help. If you are reading this, you have, very likely, already supported us. And, you also may already have a lot on your plate.
Last year, we did it! We made our financial goal, and that fundraising helped us to keep up with ongoing expenses. AND, I finished my first ever marathon! There was a strong wind at my back; there’s something to that first time energy. The going towards. The HOPE.
Today the hope is still there. But, we have, Shari has, has taken some big hits this year which included a hospitalization and a new, more aggressive treatment (that she is now in the middle of). Finding those pockets of hope become increasingly difficult when Shari is feeling unwell on all levels; physically, emotionally, spiritually. She has doubled down on her adjunct therapies, and she is very disciplined with her diet. But everyday there are new symptoms and challenges.
Most marathoners experience what is known as hitting “the wall”. This usually occurs at mile 20 after the runner's glycogen storage has been depleted. And it feels like your legs just don’t want to move anymore. They feel heavy, oh, so heavy. Ultimately, the marathon is not an accurate analogy, Shari doesn’t have her version of 26.2 miles, a finish line. She just perseveres indefinitely. But I believe Shari is hitting her own wall. When she received the stage four cancer diagnosis, almost two years ago, she reacted with fear, hope, courage, and vulnerability. She has urgently been going towards life with an open heart and vulnerability. She made our caring bridge site into a blog (Visit Shari's Site: https://www.caringbridge.org/visit/shariazar); sharing her experiences through her writing and creating a venue for her voice. It’s been a way for her to forge connection through feelings of isolation, helplessness, and feeling trapped in a body that doesn’t work like it used to, feeling trapped at home or in the hospital. She has also shared her prayer dances on the site (brief and poignant movement videos that are spontaneously created).
Movement creates hope molecules.
I learned about this through a research study on the positive effects of movement and exercise. I had, until this moment, only thought of this in terms of exercise—what happens as one releases hormones and the physiological/biological changes that occur. But I realize that writing this is movement; creating a new marathon fundraiser for Shari is movement.
Ultimately, this is all about hope molecules. By creating and forging community and connection, we are moving. When I put my sneakers on and start my run, I am moving. When Shari rises up each day and faces another infusion or side effects, she is moving. When she writes and dances and makes art, she is moving. When we, together, face the storms and still commit to life and love, we are moving.
This new fundraiser for Shari’s medical expenses is movement.
Creating meaning behind my marathon training is movement.
Going towards meaning is movement.
It feels like hope. ALL of this movement creates those molecules of hope. There is hope. We have hope. And, you, our community, help us to keep that alive.
I am asking you for help. We continue to face huge financial challenges and any support will be received with deep gratitude and humility. If you are unable to offer financial support at this time, please continue to support us through your good wishes and friendship. We can’t do this alone. We thank you for cheering us on through this marathon.
Organizer
Robert Dale Walker
Organizer
Weaverville, NC