I was fine until the scene in the movie where she placed her medal around her dad’s neck as he’s lying in his hospital bed.
That exact scene played out in my head as I wrestled with whether or not to run my 11th San Francisco Marathon last month. July is all a blur now. In some ways it felt like the longest month ever as well as the shortest. I missed a race earlier in the month because my dad was in critical condition at the hospital. “Critical” – as in the doctor pulled me aside to discuss end of life options.
That same weekend I went for a quick run near the hospital after visiting dad. Why run at all at a time such as this? I pulled into the empty parking lot of the Lafayette Reservoir with an hour left before the gates closed at 9pm. No Garmin, no iPod, no running shoes. Just took off Forrest Gump style. I just felt like running. It’s what I knew. It’s where and how Jesus has faithfully met me EVERY TIME. That evening I had the trail all to myself. I ran, I prayed, I cried out loud. No agenda whatsoever, well, except to not get locked inside the parking lot gates.
Here I am seven weeks later. Seems longer when I say it that way. I’ve been discussing dad’s progress with his care team in terms of days. Forty-four days since he was transferred to skilled nursing and roughly that many days of physical, occupational, and speech therapy.
I sat in on one of his PT sessions yesterday after church. Leg lifts, toe raises, arm extensions with weights, ball bounces. Dad looked really strong. He wasn’t ever out of breath and didn’t appear fatigued but kept saying he was tired. I think he was bored or didn’t see the point. I told him to keep going because I could see his progress. Not a lie. I mean, I’ve had to lie about a lot things the last seven weeks, but this wasn’t one of them. It’s very tempting to say “You almost died last month! Stop behaving like a child!” when dad is being dad and objecting to everything that’s actually keeping him alive.
Hmmm…
Just as I typed that last sentence, I realized that could be God talking about me. If I’m being totally transparent, there have been days I couldn’t find a good reason to get out of bed. It’s been very depressing to visit hospitals and nursing facilities. I’ve left some days thinking “What’s the point of anything I do?” Especially running. What’s the point? I mean like my dad used to be extremely diligent about exercise and nutrition. But that didn’t stop his Parkinson’s and recent pneumonia. He used to be OCD about dental hygiene. His name (Gene) is even part of the word. I had to brush his teeth for him the other day.
Dave and I just celebrated our 31st anniversary. We got married at 22 and 21, so we’re not that old in case you’re wondering. I love Dave with all my heart and more deeply with every passing year, but I don’t think I’m ready to brush his teeth or for him to brush mine – not to mention other matters of hygiene. When we said we wanted to grow old together, I might’ve pictured it a little differently.
Motivation. Purpose. Results. Those words resonated with me as a runner. For my dad, it’s now about rehabilitation and living. It’s taken on new meaning for me as well.
I did end up running the San Francisco Marathon on July 28th. I went into marathon #52 with the least amount of training I’ve ever done (running back and forth to the hospital doesn’t really count). But I did show up at that start line with perhaps the most important motivation and purpose. I would picture each difficult step my dad now takes when my own legs and feet are tired. I would take captive every defeating thought and emotion using them instead to battle in prayer for dad. I would keep a steady, consistent pace focused on each mile as progress my dad is making. I would fix my eyes on Jesus, setting my mind on eternal goals, praising Him for even the smallest of details along the course. I would finish my race strong knowing that I almost didn’t run that day because I almost let the enemy convince me that my running days were over. I would cross that finish line then I’d drive over to visit dad, and I’d place my medal around his neck.
Well, all of that did happen. Except I didn’t end up placing the medal around dad’s neck. He wasn’t ready to cross his finish line just yet.
Since then dad has made remarkable strides. Literally. He doesn’t realize it, though. We have to tell him. He argues with just about everything that’s being done for his benefit.
I ran a trail half marathon August 10th. One of my least favorite courses due to stifling heat, elevation, bee stings, and potential poison oak. Every year I’ve said “Never again!” after this race. This seventh year, I ran it with the motivation of keeping my 2019 Ultra Half Series finisher hope alive and showing the enemy “I’M NOT GIVING UP!” as well as the purpose of praying for my mom. Don’t tell anyone I said this, but the course really wasn’t so bad this year. And I’m actually looking forward to running it next year.
These days I have to be more diligent, intentional, and even thankful for the mundane. It’s humbling when I think about what my dad wouldn’t give to be back in his own home, mowing his lawn, checking his stocks, tearing it up on the golf course, and enjoying our weekly lunches at Sweet Tomatoes.
So when it came to that part of the movie yesterday, I got all choked up. My ending will be different, though. I’m still running my race alongside my dad.
“Who is it that overcomes the world? Only the one who believes that Jesus is the Son of God.” 1 John 5:5 NIV
“You, dear children, are from God and have overcome them, because the one who is in you is greater than the one who is in the world.” 1 John 4:4 NIV
“I have told you all this so that you may have peace in me. Here on earth you will have many trials and sorrows. But take heart, because I have overcome the world.” John 16:33 NLT