Well, it's as official as I can make it, I suppose... I'm running... a marathon. The Marine Corps Marathon to be exact, and I'll be doing it as a member of Team Lemon, the running team for the Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation. As you may remember from a previous post, Peter and I bid on (and won) a package at the Lemon Ball, that included a spot on Team Lemon at the marathon level.
I've never run 26 miles... I havent run over 14 miles! I'm a bit nervous... But, as Peter says, I can do it. It's 90% mental. (which is why I know that the terror I feel has nothing to do with how long my legs can run!)
Sarah and I are planning to do Broad Street this year, which is 10 miles. I'm not worried about that at all! (It still amazes me that I feel that way...) I didnt really have a hardcore training plan for the half; I'm guessing I should start working out some sort of distance plan if I hope to be ready to run 26 miles by the end of October! Like I said, I know that I can do it; it's about wanting to do it. And I do.
Nov 1st of this year will mark 25 years since Robert has been gone. 25 years since his parents hugged him. Since Peter laughed with him. It's a long time. February marks 4 years since Nicholas and Sophia were born and died, and it's been 4 of the most bittersweet of my life; I cant even look to 25 years and wonder how I will feel.
Robert's my running buddy; I often feel him with me. Which may sound odd, since I never met Robert in this life. But his presence is a constant in our family.
When I did the triathlon, I relied on his strength- and that of my own children- to get me through the hardest spots (like that swim!) So, I know that it will be the same for this marathon. One mile for every year he's been gone... 25 miles... And that last mile: it's for the folks that were left behind. For Peter... For his parents. For all of us who never got to see his smiling face or hear his infectious laugh in real time. Who know him from pictures and videos and the memories of those who loved him so.
I'd like to raise $2500 to commemorate this quarter century since his passing. A hundred dollars for each year he's been gone. In the shower yesterday morning, I figured out that if ten thousand people gave 25 cents, I'd reach my goal... If 1000 people give $1, I'll reach my goal... If 100 people give $25, I'll reach my goal. I know it may sound insane, but this is something I'd like to be able to give my in-laws as we gather around the table on November 1st this year: a card listing however many people it takes who helped us reach the goal of $2500 dedicated to researching childhood cancer (neuroblastoma if you want to make your gift specific) in Robert's memory on the 25th anniversary of his death. So many of us have lost a child, and we know how much it matters to have our child's name said, to have them remembered, to have a keepsake of love from strangers who share our pain and our journey. Times are tough- I know... But I can find a quarter when I go through jeans to toss in the laundry... And I can find $25 if I refuse 5 coffee dates with lattes at $5 a pop. So, I know it's a lot to ask- I really do- but can you find a quarter? A dollar? $25 or more? If you can, and I greatly appreciate you thinking about it, I can tell you that it matters. No matter how much your gift is, to a child (and a family) battling cancer, it is a GREAT gift. Click here to donate. (There will also be a link to this page until the Marathon on my sidebar). (Want to Text a $10 donation that is automatically billed to your wireless account? Simply text LEMONADE E79983 to 85944!)
So, this year, on October 28th, as we approach that 25 year mark, I'll be running. In his memory. And with his spirit. And, if you would, run with me: by lacing up your shoes for a mile, by pouring out your spirit in prayer for all those children suffering, or by donating to ALSF in Robert's memory.