Running for Ray

I never met Ray. I've never spoken to him on the phone, never have seen a picture, and never have heard his voice. I didn't know one thing about him, that is until I met his daughters. We were all waiting for the Indianapolis 500 Mini Marathon to begin when Kal and I made a pact that we would motivate at least 10 people during the race. This of course we hoped would keep us going and make sure we interacted with a few people of the thirty thousand or so that were running this day. One of the first people we saw were three young women wearing bright yellow shirts that read: "Running for Ray." When I asked them to explain who exactly Ray was, they cheerfully responded, "Ray was mine and her father," pointing to her sister, "and my uncle!" the other young lady chimed in. "Why are you guys 'running for Ray'?" I asked. "Ray is our hero!" Suddenly the wager my three friends and I made seemed all too trivial. Suddenly it seemed no longer enough to just be motivated by not finishing last to prevent me from buying them dinner for the next year. I felt a bit silly, like I could be using this experience for more than a game between friends.

Ray had died a year earlier of cancer. It was his dream to have his little girls (they were in their twenties) run in the Indianapolis Mini Marathon with him. But like so many of us that believe that we have unlimited opportunities to spend with those we love most, his dream never came to fruition even though he had completed 12 Mini's prior. So they were running for Ray, but in a way they were running with Ray also. I felt joy for them that they were doing something special for someone they loved, keeping him alive by making a bold statement to complete their father's dream. In turn they inspired a few of us, including me.

When I looked around I saw thousands of such journeys printed on the shirt of people who had a myriad of reasons they were taking time to run the 13.1 miles for "something." The reasons varied from a lost loved one to cancer survivors to a couple that were beating the odds of obesity and completing a run/walk just to prove to themselves that they could do it. "So why are you here, what are you running for?" a gentleman asked me as the race began. "I don't wanna buy dinner, my friends will tell me I suck if I come in last place," I said with a huge smile. Kal laughed. I felt much better about our bet. Once again Kal, Shauntea, Michael and I had set a goal and now were able to complete it. We had spent many adventurous nights laughing and fellowshipping over the years camping at Clifty Falls, getting lost in Paris (Kal and I getting stuck on the train [sigh]), experiencing the ruins of Rome, Naples and Florence, Swimming in the bio-luminescent lagoon of Puerto Rico, New York, Chicago, etc. The bet seemed as good a reason as any.

But secretly, I had another agenda. Twenty years ago at the tender age of twelve, I had ran in the Indianapolis Mini Marathon with my school. We had trained for about nine weeks to prepare for the race that should have taken about 3 hours to complete. At around mile 7 of the 13.1 miles, I came down hard off of a curb and twisted my foot so far I could see the bottom of my shoe and hear a loud cracking sound. OUCH! My teammates saw me stopping and I told them to keep going for I was all right. I wasn't. Not at all. But in those days the route was a little different than it was now. We began at the Monument Circle and ended at the Speedway Track. Therefore my parents were waiting for me 13 mile away at the track! Cell phone technology was non existent and I am a little kid so I didn't know how to ask strangers for help. So I did the best think I could think of: continue running. I ran and ran and tried to forget the pain that was radiating from my shoe and just thought happy thoughts to get me through (iPods--not invented yet!). I did make it to the track and at the entry I saw my father and mother eager to see me and excited that I was almost finished (the track is the last 2 miles of the race). My father came up to me and said that he would run the remaining distance and I said please take me to a hospital where they diagnosed it as a broken ankle. The doctors were shocked that I make it so far on my foot. In other words I never finished.

This day, I was determined to finish, cross the checkered line and make up for the decades that passed that I had this "failure" on my mind. Two hours twenty-one minutes and fifty-eight seconds later, I cross the finish line, first among my friends, who came in within seconds after I did. Although time-wise Michael beat all of us (he began the race a few minute later than we did), and Shautea crossed last, having to purchase dinner for all of us for the remainder of the year, I felt very proud of all of our accomplishments. Kal was battling with knee problems the entire race, Mike, in his second Mini completion, had an injury a few years ago that could have kept him from ever running again, Shauntea completing the Mini for the second time had a newborn baby months prior to the race and I literally collapsed in pain from cramps in my leg as soon as I crossed the finish line. Damn, we're old!

I am so glad we made the bet, not because I get free dinners, but because I get to be free with wonderful people I love dearly and enjoy knowing. I get to challenge and be challenged by beautiful friends that are my heroes. I wish I would have made a T-shirt for them. Some were running to overcome obstacles, just for fun and others--for Ray. But my shirt would have read: Seizing the Opportunity, Running With FRIENDS!