It’s the beginning of February, so it’s time for start looking forward to Harry’s Spring Run Off 8K, which takes place on April 6. It’s not one of my goal races for the year. It’s not a distance I’m good at (I’m a slow-twitch, not a fast-twitch, kind of guy). It’s a very hilly route (and I’m definitely a flat-lander). But it’s going to be a rather emotional race for me, for quite a few reasons.
First, it’s a fundraiser for prostate cancer research and treatment, specifically at Toronto’s Princess Margaret Hospital. That’s where I’ve received my care and treatments since I was first diagnosed late in 2005. (Yes, it’s been a long time, and the journey isn’t yet over.) The fact the funds I raise are going to be steered in that direction does my heart no end of good.
Second, I ran this race in 2008. It was the first race I entered after my return to running, after a 30 year absence. Being able to run at all was, at that time, a remarkable achievement for me. In May of 2005, I had been run over while cycling, and had a stainless steel rod inserted in my left femur as a result of the damage done. Here’s what my “hardware upgrade” looks like in a x-ray photo taken shortly after the surgery:
After the surgery, I was told by an orthopedic surgeon that, while I could expect to walk without difficulty, I’d probably never be able to run again. So, I started what turned out to be 14 months, three times a week, of physiotherapy. By the end of that, I was, in the words of my therapist, “functional,” though I walked with a slight limp and, to be sure, couldn’t run. However, my physiotherapist urged me to keep on trying. After a whole series of false starts, I got back to running in late December 2008. It wasn’t quick and it wasn’t pretty, but it was running. Sort of.
My performance at Harry’s Spring Run Off, 2009 edition wasn’t exactly stellar. Sure, I finished with a somewhat respectable (given the circumstances) 50:07 finishing time. But I hadn’t counted on the hills. (You can see a map of the route, in Toronto’s High Park, here.) Sure, I ran across the finish line, but I couldn’t walk at all comfortably afterwards. In fact, once an hour or so had passed, I seized up completely, and I was in a lot of pain. It took two solid weeks of physiotherapy to get me moving again.
Third, and perhaps most importantly, my wife was there at the 2009 race to support me. It meant the world to have her there, to share a hug after my finish, and to hobble off with her so we could sit down, have a coffee, and talk. She’ll be there this time too, and it won’t be any less significant or special. In fact, it’ll mean even more than it did five years ago.
I still don’t run short races well. I still don’t do hills well. I still have that steel rod in my leg. And I still haven’t beaten the cancer. But I’m here, and I’m running. That’s enough. In fact, it’s more than enough. I’m a very lucky man.
By the way, I’ve almost reached my fundraising goal of $1,500. If you’d like to help me get there, please consider supporting me in the 2013 race. You can do so by going to my personal fundraising page. It’s for a good cause, and it’ll be much appreciated. Thanks!
Barefoot Journey 