When Communities Collide

It's been a month of highs and lows for my family. While my mom celebrates what appears to have been a successful lumpectomy and cancer-free lymph nodes, uncles have received news of surprise setbacks. I hold my breath every time I open one of their update emails, never sure if the news will provoke tears of relief or worry. What has struck me recently, in these messages of their medical progress, is the wide net of support they are receiving from those in the medical profession. These are doctors I did not know a few months ago, and now their names are so easily recognizable. It's gotten me thinking about the communities of support we have in our lives, and about the coincidental crossing of two communities of my own, in recent months. That's what has inspired today's post.

On Sundays these days, I have been running with kids. Grade 11 kids, who, two years ago when they were students in my English 9 class at Cariboo Hill Secondary, expressed an interest in completing a half marathon. That first year, ten of them ran the Rock ‘n Roll Vancouver Half Marathon, with all ten of them completing it. This year, four of them returned, three to run their third (we ran the Scotiabank Vancouver Half last year) and one to run her second. This paragraph, about these kids, will not come close to capturing how strong and dedicated and driven these kids are, nor will it depict the level of commitment exhibited by this group, turning up every weekend to our meeting place at Science World, to run. They are an incredible group, and I have been lucky to train with them. I’ll just leave it at that.

While we are on our training runs, we discuss aspects of our program, like good runners do. We calculate our pace, debate nutrition and hydration, commiserate over sore muscles and tired bodies. But we also talk about our lives, our friends and families, and our future plans. The students are a year away from graduating, so we often discuss post-secondary dreams, upcoming school exams, and summer jobs. They ask me about my work at SFU, inquire about my children, listen patiently as I go on and on about the future of education. It is these latter conversations I most look forward to. The discussions about non-running topics are a big reason I love training with a group.

A running community is a powerful thing. I belong to a few different running groups, and I love the support and encouragement I get from running with others. When I was training for my first marathon, I joined the Denman Street Running Room Clinic and was embraced immediately by a large community of experienced runners who were quite happy to take me under their wing and provide advice about marathons. They were also happy to share of their lives and personal experiences, helping me to better understand my own. And when training runs became near-impossible, these were the people who kept me moving and helped me finish.

I don’t want to undermine in any way the impressive work done by the medical community, particularly those who work with cancer patients, by comparing them to the running communities I belong to. I mean no disrespect in speaking of them that way here, nor do I wish to imply that running a marathon equates in any way to the struggle of living with cancer. But, these two communities – runners, and those in the medical field – share similarities that these days, are hitting pretty close to home.

When training gets difficult for me, it’s my running friends I turn to for support. They listen to me complain, offer advice for how to overcome obstacles, and urge me forward. I have been out on a 32 km long run before, in so much pain and so ready to quit, and it was my running community who kept me going. Three of us peeled off from the main group, and walked/hobbled the rest of the way back, limping and crying, wanting to give up, but unwilling to let each other down.

I see this same kind of support in the doctors and nurses who have been treating my mom, my uncles, my friends. They are scared, and tired, and ready to give up, but are being urged forward by the medical community. Being supported, listened to, encouraged, through some of the toughest experiences there are.

I still can’t really believe that these two communities have collided in this way, and that I will be granted the opportunity to run through the streets of NYC with those people I love who are fighting cancer, those doctors, nurses and researchers working to save them, those people I love who have helped me discover my passion for running, and those people I love who have donated money in support of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center in order to help me reach my fundraising goal, all in my heart. With that kind of support, reaching the finish line will be a communal achievement. You’ll all have helped me get there, and for that, I am so grateful.

Repo Man Meets Running: Why We Are Here

Jen says:

I am not a believer in fate. When people speak of things being destined to happen, I am the one standing behind them, rolling my eyes. In my world, things don’t occur for pre-ordained reasons. We make them happen. We choose.

When my running buddy (and all-around buddy) Wing Taylor asked me last year if I wanted to run the New York Marathon with him and his sister, Charlotte, in 2017, I wondered at the possibility of such an experience. Did I want to run another marathon? Could I afford the trip? Could I manage the time away from work, and my kids? I waffled. I couldn’t decide. I wasn’t sure.

And then Wing proposed that we run for Fred’s Team, for whom we would fundraise in support of Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, the very place where his other sister, Blair, had recently received treatment for oral cancer. That we could run to support people who had seen his sister through such an epic experience made me feel like it would give us some purpose for being there. I felt like maybe the run would be do-able. That I could probably make it happen.

And then a couple of weeks later, just a few weeks ago, an uncle of mine was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. This, in a family where another uncle is in the midst of a battle with kidney cancer. A family where yet another uncle is a survivor of cancer. It’s not that cancer and its brutal, indiscriminate targeting of people is a new thing for me – I’ve lost colleagues, family friends, personal friends to this disease. I know that it is everywhere. It's just that it suddenly felt like it was everywhere in my friend’s family. In my family. It was everywhere, terrifying and worrying the people I love.

And then the day after I received my confirmation email from Fred’s Team, acknowledging that I would be welcomed to the team if I wanted to join, my mom shared with me that she has breast cancer.

So I will run this New York Marathon because I am meant to run it. I have never before believed anything as much as I believe this: Wing and Charlotte and I are supposed to be at that start line in November. We are destined to raise this money, and fated to carry in our hearts all these people we have lost, and those we love, in defiance of this disease.

Wing says:

“Was blind but now I see” - from the lyrics to Amazing Grace - John Newton 1779

“A lot of people don’t realize what’s really going on.” - Miller’s speech from Repo Man - Alex Cox 1984

A Cold Opening

When I looked up the Wikipedia page for the hymn “Amazing Grace” I was intending only to fact check (whether that should be done on Wikipedia is a debate for another day). Date that it was written, name of the writer etc. When, in the introductory paragraph about Amazing Grace writer John Newton, it mentioned that “his life’s path was formed by a variety of twists and coincidences”, I realized that in seeking a connection between Miller’s speech from Repo Man and Amazing Grace, I should have been EXPECTING to find it in the first paragraph!

There will be time for much more discussion of the “lattice of coincidence”, its implications, and the other names we might give it, etc. but today I wanted to simply introduce the concept. The terminology. This theme will be heavily explored in this space by yours truly.

What possible relevance is there to our mission in 2017?

At the highest level, it’s relevant due to the very fact that Fred’s Team exists, and that it benefits Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center, and that my sister Blair would be getting treated there, for oral cancer, at the moment that Jen and I were looking into running the NY Marathon. Oh yeah, and that Tom (my old friend) would have run for Fred’s Team a couple of times before and just happen to mention it, specifically, as a great option to ensure a bib for the marathon. Can I get a witness?

But, this rabbit hole goes much much deeper.

And once you know what to look for, the lattice of coincidence starts to look less and less like a series of coincidences, and more like an expression of a fundamental truth. And THAT, will be something I am trying to unpack as the year goes on and we get closer and closer to toeing the line on the Verrazano Narrows Bridge in November!

We're comin' for you, NYC.