Diaries of a Nearly Dead Man

In 2011 I suffered congestive heart failure. In 2012 I ran my first races. My third 5K was the Framingham Police Chase to raise money for PanCAN. My mother died of pancreatic cancer and I hate it.

I hate cancer in general. I am currently working my way through treatment for my own.

This year I ran the race for the fouth time. Can you believe it, I have been running 4 seasons! (I might even name a band that if I ever get seriously back into music.) Every year there is something wonderful about this race. I guess it's becuase I dedicate it to remembering my mother.

She died in 2001.

2012: The first year I ran the race I went with some folks from my In It To Lose It class at the local YMCA. I had a little trouble on the hockey rink a few days before and showed up with a broken finger, a sore shoulder (which I eventually had surgery on) and a couple of busted ribs. It was was still a fun time, a sunny day, and I did OK with a time of 30:10. That was a bit faster than my first 5K a 2 months before. More HERE and then I went to the ER to get my ribs looked at.

2013: The second year I ran the Police Chase, my life was falling apart due to job loss and all that comes with that. I had been in the ER the day before because my blood pressure spiked from stress. I still ran 25:59 There was a guy that I was trying to beat, and even though I passed him, his chip time was a second or so better than mine. More HERE.

It was a PR.

2014: On race day I was coming off a tibial fracture that I got during the Boston Marathon. I did the best that I could, and that was 26:11. I got in the car, put my cast back on and drove home thinking about my mom. It was sort of lonely.
 
2015: A few days ago, I ran the Police Chase again. I didn't train for it, I just showed up ready to run. I have been running marathons of the 26.2 mile variety and no short fast races. I still had dreams of winning my age group. As I walked into the school to pick up my bib, there he was; the guy from my run club who always kicks my ass beats me. The last time we ran together, he beat me by almost a full minute in a 5K. That's a lot in a short race where every second counts.

The race started and off we went across Cushing Park.

I stopped looking at everyone else and just focused on my breathing, on my race and on my mom. The first mile was fast, too fast for me to end up alive at the end. I rolled it back a little between miles one and two. Puking is not an option or a race strategy. I thought about my mom. As I rounded a corner not far before the mile 2 marker, I saw THE guy.

2 miles, 14:49!

I knew I was still too fast, but I kept him in my sights. I switched between running my race and checking where he was. Around the last corner we went, turning into the park two tenths of a mile from the finish line. I kept my eye on the guy I needed to beat. He turned it on and so did I. I didn't really have a lot left in the tank and my legs started to feel like rubber.

I looked up as he crossed the finish line: 23:43

I thought about just giving up, but I pressed on another 100 feet to cross at 23:49. That's nearly 7 minutes faster than my first time running this race and not too far from my 5K personal record of 23:23.

I still miss my mom. I still hate cancer.

As always, thanks for the votes and comments.