My lungs burned, my joints ached and my mind kept fretting about what lay ahead. It was my 29th 10k road race down Atlanta’s famed Peachtree Street, but the experience of decades of running in the event was losing out to the agony of the moment.
Then it got even worse: a fellow racer cut me off on her way back from a water station. I had to swerve hard to avoid hitting her and a second later felt a twinge in my right Achilles tendon. Argh, I had labored five arduous miles, including “Cardiac Hill,” needing everything to go smoothly and without incident and then this happens. Game over, right?!
My thoughts returned to my father, whose plight makes a road race seem like a walk in the park. Dad beat cancer more than a decade ago, but now finds himself in a fight for his life brought on by the side effect of the radiation treatment on his neck. The resulting bouts of aspiration pneumonia have sent his oxygen levels plummeting and him to the hospital more than six times since the spring of 2021. At the time of the race, he was in a hospital bed and just a few weeks away from major surgery that would have him permanently breathing out of his neck.
Dad not surprisingly set the tone for many of my values and priorities in life, including physical fitness. He and my brother started running the Peachtree Road Race in the ‘70s, and Dad, my sister and I completed the Disney World Marathon in 2002. That big race in Florida, which included sideways rain on the back stretch, was many moons and belt sizes ago, but I still remember that stamina training mindset — okay, you don’t feel good now, but give the run five or so more miles before you call it a day.
The story my father tells of the moment when he realized he needed to get in better shape has never left me. Just out of college, he observed somebody finishing up a jog and thought he’d try it himself. After getting winded in a very short amount of running time, Dad knew he had to make some changes and commit to regular exercise. Flash forward several decades to an active family with well over 100 Peachtree Road Races between us. How powerful is that — one moment not only inspired self-improvement to last a lifetime, but, through my Dad’s great example, it led to positive habits across multiple generations!
I finished the race. My father might not have his voice anymore, but his lessons of toughness and perseverance still speak to me. And his tremendous fight today inspires another generation. Thanks a million, Dad, and Happy Birthday!
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