… and LOTS of things to do. =)
Welcome to my blog page everyone! I can’t believe that I’m actually sitting here writing these words, because it means that I’m actually going to be running the marathon… eek! I’m really excited but honestly just as nervous because, well, it’s a marathon. And it’s for my Dad, so the whole double-emotional/physical-whammy thing is a little intimidating.
To be honest, (again), I’ve been putting off setting up this blog. Running the marathon for the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society’s Team in Training was something that has always been in the back of my mind as something that I wanted to do, ever since our neighbor Mark ran the 2004 Boston Marathon in memory of my Dad. But it was one of those, “oh maybe I’ll do it, it could be interesting” type of back-of-the-mind thoughts. And now I’m doing it, officially as of today. Woah.
So why have I been putting off creating this blog? Because as excited as I am to be running the marathon, the fact that I am running for my Dad in a way makes me want to not run the marathon at all; simply put, I’d rather not run and still have him here. Don’t we all though.
I remember the night that my Dad and I were in the hospital in Naperville when we found out he had cancer. It was a typical Amanda/Nick moment – he was sitting propped up in his hospital bed tapping away on his lap top, and I had smushed into the bed right next to him and was flipping through the latest National Geographic that had been delivered to the house that morning. I don’t remember my Dad actually telling me he had cancer; to be honest I don’t think I completely understood what he said to me when he got off the phone with his doctor until he told me not to cry, and abruptly cut off his sentence short as if he didn’t know what else to say. (Which, for those of you who knew Nick even a little, understand the impact his silence had.)
The most striking moment of my memory of that night though, was about ten minutes later. My Dad and I were leaning against each other in his bed holding hands when he straightened up and said, “Well, we shall surge ahead. Let’s pick out some wigs.”
Looking back I’ve noticed that the attitude that shaped his comment is one that resounds in my life to this day; always my father’s daughter, (and without even knowing it), I’ve embodied his outlook in facing obstacles and challenges with the same sound determination and zest that Nick was so famous (and infamous) for. Getting through four years at Boston University – and life – without him has been harder than I can describe; how do I put words to the feeling of something compressing and pulling your heart so much that it makes it difficult to breathe every time I let myself realize for a moment that my Dad is actually gone? Right now, I can’t. But hopefully as this blog goes on I’ll be able to become more eloquent in describing to my experiences to you.
Which brings me to this: if you are reading this blog, chances are you care about me and/or Nick, therefore chances are that you donated towards my $4,000.00 goal for the 2008 Boston Marathon. I know that doing something like that for a man such as Nick is just as emotional and difficult for many of you as it is for me to write these words, because it is a reminder that someone who impacted all of us so greatly is gone. For that reason, we’re in this together; in the same way I still cannot describe the angst that persists when I think about my Dad, I again find myself at a complete loss for words when it comes to expressing my gratitude for your care and support.
I’m sure Dad would know what to say. Or, at least have a smart-ass comment or two to keep everyone in check from getting too mushy. But since I am at a loss for either right now (hurrah for being a communications major =), so I’m offering this: I promise to keep this page updated from today to the end of my journey with the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society and the 2008 Boston Marathon, so that you can all travel through this experience this with me. Fiercely independent as I am, I know that I cannot do this alone. More importantly, I would not want to even attempt this marathon without people like you behind me.
(family dynamic, perfectly presented: Christmas 2002)
I’m leaving you with words that I have never forgotten from our neighbor Mark Goetz, who unknowingly has been one of my biggest pushes behind my motivations to run the Boston Marathon this year: “I am going to have aches and pains during my training runs, and it is certainly going to be a battle getting up the hills and across the finish line of the 26.2 mile course. However, clearly, it could never compare to the battle and challenges faced everyday by individuals battling these dreaded diseases. But, you and I can share in the pride of giving in the memory of Nick and thousands like him.”
I’m going to be biased and say that there is no one like Dad, (wink), but I think that if can make it thorough the marathon that these past four years have been without him, the Boston Marathon will certainly be manageable.
‘Till next time, I wish you all my love and the best,
Amanda
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