Reflecting on Cancer During a Christmas Morning Run

My family celebrated each Christmas Eve with midnight Mass. Although a bit sleep deprived, I would awake before anyone else early Christmas morning for a run to clear my mind. Running helped reduce stress and increase my brain function to set the tone for a calm new year. We had not had any snow until that Christmas morning, when a generous supply of glistening powder covered the roads.

It was so peaceful and tranquil. Oh, I so recall: My radio awakens me with “Footloose” by Kenny Loggins at 5 a.m. I splash water on my face, dress in running tights, layers of shirts and finally my Nike Waffle running shoes. Out the door I go! I see nothing but white-dusted roads and admire the way the streetlights glow in the distance.

Inside my head, I hear “Do They Know It’s Christmas” by Band Aid. I was on top of the world. It is serene and quiet as I sprint lightly across the snow. All the youngsters, I assume, are snuggled in their beds, waiting for the arrival of the grand elf. It was the most amazing run, as my endorphins kicked in after three miles. That euphoric feeling made me experience what felt like running on air.

Well, it was 14 months since my initial cancer diagnosis. The white powder, at 6:30 a.m. and the wood-burning scent in the air reminded me of my childhood. I began thinking of the reason why I am alive. As I run through my hometown park, I remember what a young guy said to me during my senior year in high school. He looked at me one sunny spring day in the cafeteria and said, “Hey, I know you are, the guy that is the track and cross-country captain.” I said, “Yes, I am that guy.” He said, “I watched you run all high school and wanted to be like you. Always admired your persistence and how fast you run.”

I often think about that classmate as I run every early Christmas morning. It was that Christmas run, a kick of endorphins to clear my head before the big day. I invested considerable time in my own training. My classmate had been watching me from a distance and I never knew. I took for granted what talent I had been given.

That first Christmas after my diagnosis made me think about my high school track and cross-country coach, Mac. One conversation after a devastating high school district final loss, Mac said, “All that is real is what is happening right now, at this moment.” I did not understand at that time in my life what Mac meant. He very slowly continued, “The past is a memory, a sense we can only hold on to.” For instance, just now, as I write this essay, a memory is created.

Since my cancer diagnosis, I have seen things very differently each Christmas. So thankful now to have a loving wife, great family and friends who are loyal as a lapdog. I observe our world and think what if I was not in it? It seems so simple to say, I love life and living. Over time, I have been led to my true passions: international travel and writing. They taught me to reach out and go for that brass ring. It is there for all to grab.

That morning run gave me perspective on my life. It was a time in which I had found true peace. I wish I could replay that place in more than just my memory. The gift of that high school Christmas morning run, helped me appreciate I could slow down a little, accept who I was and feel good about my path in life. I like remembering that time and a chance to rid my mind of all its clutter and sin for a day. Just stopping and smelling the coffee. After getting the all-clear from my urologist, I felt the load on my shoulders lifted. A gift of love deep and profound, it left me humble.

With all the world’s distractions, there was no double mirror to see future existence. But being human does not make you blind. Every day, one can visualize and define their destiny. We do not have all the answers to everything, but we can set a path forward. I have come to understand that life is a skilled adventure, and I am an unskilled apprentice. Life is a gift to be appreciated.

Merry Christmas, and remember all that you are thankful for, including health, happiness and hope.

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