I Can Get Home From Here

Last fall, while on a long training run with one of my kindest friends and best training partners, we made a turn onto the trail in our town which meant we were only a couple of miles from home after a long, tough run.  I took a deep breath and said to her, "Okay, I can get home from here."  Knowing we were on a familiar path and getting close to home, we put our heads down and kept running, and I as I repeated in my head "I can get home from here."  A month or so later, we were again running stride by stride during the marathon in Maine we had been training for and I was starting to struggle the last few miles.  In my head, I had started to break down the remaining miles and had reached the point where I had said to myself that we could indeed "get home" from there.  And then as if planned, as we passed the next mile marker, my friend and running buddy looked over and said to me, "We can get home from here."  She, too, remembered that run and saw the finish line coming at us.  Home.

It's a little game we play when running for hours, breaking the distance down into manageable chunks: get to the next mile marker or the next corner or water stop and eventually you find your way to the finish line. I find myself using these same Jedi mind tricks in my day to day.  I am a list maker and break down what needs to be done into smaller pieces and just as we check off  miles when on a run, I can check off my to-dos, eventually getting far enough along to know that wherever I am, I can get home from there.

It's been 10 years since Molly was admitted to the hospital for a final time as the brain tumor caused more and more damage.  I think much of the last 10 years has been trying to reach that spot where we know we can in fact "get home."  10 years ago, getting through next 10 hours seemed like an eternity filled with sadness but through each of the coming days and future challenges, looking for the next checkpoint got us through.  For each of us and for all our individual challenges, not just the loss of a loved one from cancer; that "home" we are trying to get to varies and is always changing.  It may be just getting out of bed today and then tomorrow and then the day after; or getting through a birthday or holiday; feeling strong enough to go to a place filled with memories; not being so angry anymore.  Little by little, you get "home."  And then we set a new corner to reach or milestone to achieve and keep chugging along.

After a long training season, I am now feeling "I can get home" with the marathon this year.  With one more 20-mile training run next week and then the taper, the start line is in sight and I know I can get there.  It's been a challenging training season with some lingering aches and pains that improve with PT treatment but haven't gone away.  I've been taking it one run at a time and trying not to look too far ahead as to not get bogged down.  Each week, I've had some friends and teammates that inspire me to get out there and hobble through the miles.  There's nothing better than checking off the long run for the week, and then setting my eyes on the next run.   

And I know, too, that the $50,000 goal that I set for fundraising this year is attainable with over $43,000 raised so far.  We're over 85% of the way there and I know we can reach that milestone with 4 weeks to go to the marathon.  What a tribute to all of those we have honored throughout the years.  In their honor, we together have contributed quite sizable and impactful funds for cancer research that are being utilized every day in the labs at Dana-Farber.  Thank you for your ongoing and very generous support for 10 years.  I continued to be humbled and inspired by the generosity of so many.  And as it was during the final miles of the marathon in December, what a positive it can be to have friends and family by your side who remind you that you can, and will, get home from here.  

To make a gift and help us reach our goal, please visit www.runDFMC.org/2018/jennies

be good. be strong.