Travis Update 12/25/01
I can hardly believe that just over 3 years ago I wrote an update and called it MARROWthon, because of the ever-so-slow marrow transfusion drip that took 4 hours to complete for Travis. And here we are, a universe of difference later -- as I give you the MARAthon report from Honolulu! Honestly, sometimes I feel like our lives are at extreme and ridiculous ends of the spectrum. From Hospitals to Honolulu. And from Marrow to Marathon (which, by the way, is what I plan to entitle a book from these updates someday). (-: The contrast just boggles my mind.
What an unbelievable experience we just had together in Honolulu! The boys were wide-eyed with delight the entire trip. We'd saved and saved my frequent flyer miles for so long -- and every moment of the business travel (at least earning miles each time) was worth it to be able to have this experience together. I was so grateful to have my family with me and the Leukemia-Lymphoma Society's Team In Training (TNT). The journey had great purpose and excitement from the moment we began.
A few highlights -- at the pasta party the night before the run (I don't call it a "race" -- HAH!), I was so honored to be able to share remarks from the podium, following some amazing special guest speakers and a beautiful performer. The latter, a young girl named Kimberly Thach, sang the Star Spangled Banner and another song -- one she'd written -- with beauty, poise and strength. This, from a 14-year old girl who'd been diagnosed with leukemia and who had come extremely close to losing that battle. She has recovered stronger than ever, and is now fulfilling her life's wish -- to be a singer/performer (her first chance was through Make-A-Wish and now she's in hot demand).
One moving speaker was a mom who'd lost her own young son to leukemia. She spoke deep from the heart, and introduced a group of high-school kids from her hometown who had trained and raised funds to be a part of this marathon and to help save lives. As she spoke, I suddenly began sobbing when a slide came up behind her with a sign that read "Run for Travis". At first, I'd thought that had been her son's name, but through my shock, I heard her tell about one of the kids on this high school team, named Travis -- who, in the midst of fund-raising and training for Honolulu with TNT, was suddenly diagnosed with leukemia. That Travis was now in the hospital fighting for his life instead of running with his team to save others. So, in memory of her son and in honor of this teammate, these kids and this mom were about to run their hearts out the next day. I was positively floored.
Shortly after this woman's speech that touched us all to the core, the master-of-ceremonies invited different groups to stand as he recognized them. He began by asking all the survivors in the auditorium to stand and be honored. By that time, I'd been asked to come to the speaker's table up front, and my eyes were streaming tears. I couldn't see all the way back, but I knew, there was my now 9 year-old Travis, standing at our table, with Spencer, Joe and everyone applauding him and the other miracle survivors standing in the room. As you can imagine, everyone in the place knew more clearly than ever that we had made a commitment that was indeed saving lives. I was crying so hard, it took me quite a bit to get centered and focus on getting ready to make my own remarks (Yikes -- after THAT?).
And sure enough, shortly after I was introduced to speak. Big gulp. I kept thinking there was nothing more I could say or demonstrate that could inspire these 2,400 runners and guests any more than had already been put into our hearts and minds that evening. But I was there to represent so many people who were still fighting and so many people who had tragically lost the same battle. And that knowledge gave me tremendous inner strength. Surprisingly, as I walked up to the stage and looked into the audience, I felt deeply at peace and ready to give all I could to help these marathoners make it through 26.2 long miles beginning at 5 o'clock the next morning. While I won't write it all, here's a recap. (In fact, the convention workers cleaned our table and took my papers by mistake, so I don't have my handwritten notes anymore! Thanks to Joe and my friend Deb, we did get it on videotape).
I spoke about three main things. I shared my own little epiphany from the 2000 marathon -- that there's a point at which each and every participant may need to "get outside themselves" and cheer for the other runners, wheelchair participants, walk/runners and walkers -- as we pass each other during the course. I spoke about how that had helped several crucial (and late) miles fly by during my run last year, just when I'd needed it most. Cheering for others (everyone -- and especially the Team In Training runners -- a few thousand of 'em) and thanking the volunteers and roadside fans would help us forget our own struggles and keep us going forward. (And sure enough, during the run the next day, you wouldn't have believed the INCREDIBLE spirit and encouragement -- coming from the marathoners to one another! I certainly can't take credit for it -- but the cheering was contagious, and participants were just wholeheartedly supporting and high-fiving other marathoners, even when they looked out of gas themselves. It was absolutely beautiful to be a part of.)
The second part of my remarks was sharing our own personal journey -- again, as one representative of so many other people who are on this path. Ours is a miraculous story and one we don't take for granted for a second. Somehow, I'd managed to pull the most vivid and impactful events of that intense time and condense it in my speech. Among those remarks, of course they learned about Travis and his sweetness, strength and focus on getting better. They learned about Spencer, and how he struggled alongside his best friend and brother -- and had felt ripped apart in the process. I spoke about how the journey had affected Joe and me, as parents living those minutes, hours, days, weeks and months with singular purpose and clarity -- keeping our sons, BOTH of them -- alive and healthy, emotionally AND physically. And of course, I spoke about our marrow donor hero, Marge, and her unbelievable commitment to give Travis the gift of life.
(Please go to www.marrow.org to get in the registry. YOU may save a life!)
I positioned the last part of my remarks as "the best gift I could give all the marathoners". And that gift was the sweet faces of a miracle. I told the marathoners to watch for the Pikachu balloons (our personal marathon spotting signal) at two points along the route -- and right there would be none other than two healthy and strong best friends/brothers, victors over this nightmare -- Travis and Spencer, with their daddy Joe cheering alongside them. At that point in my speech, I had the three of them come on stage -- and the entire audience gave them a standing ovation as Joe held each of the boys' hands and walked together down the long walkway to the front of the convention center auditorium. How I kept it together, I'll never know. I was proud and grateful beyond belief. Up they came, onto the stage, with their faces beaming on the jumbo screens as well. I gave them a hug and introduced each one as the boys helped me finish my speech -- with their personal cheer to the nationwide Team. They shouted "GO TEAM!"
Yup. It was an amazing highlight for us. I've heard from so many people over the last 3 years of how Travis (and each of us in the family) has been a beacon of hope for so many who are any number of footsteps behind in this cancer/BMT nightmare. And sure enough, for days after the marathon, many, many people approached us to say how seeing these boys and hearing their story had helped them continue to put one foot in front of another, when they'd so desperately wanted to quit. My heart was so full that entire week -- knowing that our journey was having meaning for so many others. (As Kushner says in the book, "When Bad Things Happen To Good People", things don't happen for a reason. Rather, we can only try to make meaning out of things that do happen. Pardon my awful paraphrasing, it's what I took away from the book that helped me. And so, we're finding meaning from our experience. )
And now, the marathon, yeeeeeooooooooooooooooowwwww! Thanks to the tremendous caring and determination of my dear friend and TNT teammate (and she's a former client!), Deb Fell, we finished this whopper of a marathon. Deb went every step of the way with me. Through the humidity and wind (both of which tore away at my mental strength), we crossed the finish line with arms up and linked together after 5 hours and 46 minutes. (Deb could have shaved an hour off that time, but this woman refused to leave my side. This was our marathon together. Thank you, my wonderful friend.). Honestly, I thought we'd have 5 hours of rare "gab time", but this marathon was deep one for me. My mind and heart were so full -- I was pretty quiet most of the way -- when we weren't cheering others along.
It meant so, so much to me to know that my boys were both alive and strong -- and that they were right there, cheering all the marathoners -- and me, when I'd get there. Unfortunately, it was a huge blow to me that somehow we didn't connect at mile 11 as we'd planned. In fact, it was like the wind was sucked out of my sails and I started wheezing -- I was so torn that we'd missed each other. Deb just stayed by my side and quietly helped me keep focus and walk when I needed to. (which was a lot, as I just couldn't breathe).
And then, the most beautiful moment of the marathon for me, My heart was so hopeful after mile 21, as I strained over all the cheering crowds to try to see yellow Pikachu balloons in the distance at mile 22, as promised. I truly didn't think I could keep going if I didn't see those boys' sweet faces. I hardly dared hope -- and tried to prepare myself for "just another mile marker". Thank God -- and Joe -- they were there! I spotted the yellow balloons and screamed, "MY BOYS!!!" I went from a struggling marathoner, to a Kenyan-type Olympic racer and positively FLEW to my children! It was a feeling I've never experienced in my life. I was smiling a mile wide, crying and squeezing the boys -- there were alive AND at mile 22!!! What a boost! It felt like I'd been slingshot the rest of the way for the final 4.2 miles (or, the REAL marathon, as they say). Deb and I had let go of setting a new time record for ourselves miles before, so we instead focused on plodding along and cheering our fellow marathoners and teammates (some of whom would be finishing hours after us) as we passed by them on the return route. Deb, you are a treasure.
Oh man, was I glad when we reached that finish line! WAAAAAAAHHHHOOOOOOOOO!!!!
That night, we danced our buns off at the Team Victory Party. I even had the honor of one dance with Travis. (-: Everyone's energy and pride was just intoxicating that night. These marathoners were so very proud -- and so many were in disbelief that they'd actually done a marathon. There were many first timers -- now full-fledged marathoners for the rest of their lives. A meaningful celebration -- one of amazing accomplishment and purpose.
For any of you contemplating this incredible experience, you have my 100% encouragement. And age and weight are no excuse! I read in the next day's paper that the oldest marathoner -- I think in his 80's -- finished in just over 12 hours! And every shape and size made it though the day, as well. (Even the guy with the kimono and Japanese wooden shoes did it again!). Go for it -- at www.leukemia-lymphoma.org and click on the Team In Training link for more info. Joe is planning to do one in June. Join him! There are TNT chapters all over the country.
A quick irony -- of all the health issues that we might have faced on this trip, Spencer was the one who surprised us with an emergency doctor visit! Poor little sweetheart woke the night after the marathon with a whopper toothache. And sure enough, he had an abscess and impacted huge baby molar that needed a yank! He took it like a trooper -- and finished the trip with one tooth less in his dimpled smile. (Kind of like having a baby -- I think he felt like "I don't care what it takes --just get this thing OUTTA here!" :-) Gotta love that Hawaiian dentist. Mahalo to you, sir.
Anyway, at this marathon, several hundred thousand dollars (sorry, I missed the total they announced) was raised by our entire national Team -- all to fight leukemia, lymphoma, multiple myeloma and Hodgkins disease.
Thank you, everyone, from the bottom of my heart -- for your generous sponsorship donations to the LLS (over $7,000 this time) and your sincere encouragement and support. In this marathon and in our three and a half year journey, I couldn't have done it without you.
Wishing you all a healthy, happy New Year -- filled with peace and a cure.
With hugs and hope,
Melanie
P.S. Check out new marathon pictures and our GROWING, HEALTHY BOYS! on Travis' website www.keeptrying.com