This was not the ideal day to run a marathon, nor was I in shape to run one. A constant rain fell on us from the time we started, leaving me the choice to pull a race-day decision of shortening the run by half. No one would blame me.
When I had signed up, we thought Kylie’s treatment was going well. Running the marathon to raise money for pediatric cancer research seemed to be a great thing to do for other children who would follow us. Her decline came so quickly. One of the most minor consequences of her passing was that I no longer cared about training. When the date came close, although not ready I decided to run – well, walk and run. I knew it would be a long day. Of my two running-mates, only Krish was prepared. Randy’s knee had prevented his training.
We talked beforehand and I espoused my belief that there would be no shame in turning left at mile six and completing the half-marathon. No shame at all. It seemed the logical choice.
We lost Krish in the crowd early on and we wounded two ambled toward the split not knowing what the rest of the day would hold. After running four miles, my back began to ache. It wasn’t debilitating, but we still had twenty-two miles of pavement to pound… or possibly a wiser nine.
When we got close to the split, I wanted to go left. Already hurting and unprepared, the thought of the full scared me. Decision time had come.
“What do you want to do?” I asked.
“I kinda want to finish the drill,” Randy replied. “Just think of the accomplishment!”
I didn’t want to do it. I thought he was probably crazy enough to finish it alone. My back cried out that it was a bad choice. I hurt. I ached and I was about to move left and send him on his way when I thought of Kylie.
So many times during chemo, Kylie hurt. So many times, she ached and cried out that it was too hard – she couldn’t do it. She wanted to stop every day, but she kept on going. She persevered even though she didn’t know when it would stop. When she was throwing up from chemo, she couldn’t count down from twenty-six to one knowing the nausea would subside with the numbers. It just went on and on for her. I knew the exact end. There was a palpable finish line waiting for me. The end of the misery called “treatment” for cancer never came for her. She died before her treatments ended.
The thought of her triggered emotions for me, mixing tears with the rain on my face. I knew there was only one choice. I turned right. I turned right for Kylie. How could I not finish this race when she pushed so bravely through hers?
We trudged on for twenty more miles. It wasn’t pretty. The rain never stopped and the pain persisted to the end. We walked a good bit, but ran at the finish as if we’d been running the entire time. It was finally over.
I bent to receive a medal that I wish I could put around her neck, but I can’t. I can’t because we don’t have safe and adequate treatment for childhood cancer, which is the very reason I ran in the first place. The medal will always be hers, though. And someday, I’ll tell her about it and how I thought of her and turned right.
33 thoughts on “Why I Turned Right”
So humbling!!! I’ve been following Kylie’s story for some time now, I still think of her and I know you’ve heard this a million times, she has the MOST beautiful smile. God bless you & your family.
Yes she did. Thank you.
I continue to pray for your sweet family. (Peace and comfort)
Your stories along with Kylie’s beautiful smile have captured my heart. What can I do to support the More Than 4 cause?
Not sure just yet. We will figure out something with the interim director soon.
Ok, then I will stay tuned… In the meantime, I hope and pray for comfort and healing for you and your family. For what it is worth, please know your stories are helping me come to terms with my own greif. The circumstances are very different, and I can’t pretend to understand how you must feel. Yet, your transparency has helped me to allow myself to process my feelings towards a significant loss. Forgive me, I know it is not about me. This is about Kylie. Yet, you have helped me through your stories. Thank you.
That means a great deal to me, Kim. Thank you.
A little angel whispered in your ear that you could do it 🙂
Yes she did.
Hugs to you all 🙂
Running, and especially running marathons, teaches us to ignore the things that hurt and be mindful of the things that injure.
That is Poetic! thank you
Mark. You’re an amazing dad! I’m still undergoing treatment myself, and Kylie was one of my chemo heroes, she kept me going. I will be doing my first race in a year and a half in May, a short sprint triathlon here in NC. I will have Kylie in mind the whole way. Great job, Mark.
Thank you Gina! Good luck with your half. If you want a bracelet to wear, let me know.
Reading this brought me to tears. Your run was great tribute to Kylie.
Thank you – I feel like these kind of things are the least I can do.
thank you, Heather.
God gave you strength just as he gave Kylie strength!
I believe that is exactly right.
Well done, Mark.
You are such an inspiration to all of us… Keep fighting… For Kylie and for those who will go through the same thing in the future… with the hopes that their families don’t have to suffer the pain you are.
I will keep fighting so no one has to do this. Kylie told me to!
From our babies we gain wisdom and strength. Kylie taught us all what strength is all about. She was a very special little girl….
You are correct, Donna. Thank you.
She will always and forever affect the choices and paths your entire family will take from here on out, what a powerful influence she continues to have.
She does… Thank you
this gave me chills and was beautiful. she told you to turn right and you listened. just as parents and children will do forever. wonderful.
Thank you Beth. She still has quite a pull
Know she has to be so proud of you! God bless you!
Thank you Jan
I wish I had the the perfect words, but I suppose that there are no perfect words in a situation like this. I think you’re incredibly brave for sharing something so personal, and I know that I am a complete stranger, but I am truly sorry for your loss.
Thank you. And you are right, there are no perfect words, so affirmation like yours is the best thing going…