when a 5K doesn't hurt

Some of you remember my attempts over a year ago to train for a half-marathon. While isolated on the transplant floor in May and June of 2006, I had decided to take up running--and did, in fact, run a (very painful) 3.5-mile race in Boston in June. But the race--and over-training--led to a serious injury that put me in physical therapy all last summer. I was pretty sure I would never run again (the ortho told me never over a mile, at least), and to cement my decision, I went back to swimming.

Well, kids change things. While I was training for that first race last June, Orilus was stuck in bed, or at least in his teeny room, on 6 West. He couldn't go outside. He couldn't run. He wasn't even usually free of a towering IV pole connected almost always to his chest. But watching me lace up my sneakers every day, he decided that he, too, wanted to run.

So what? Most kids want to run, right? But here's the thing: Orilus has never really run before, not in his entire life. Sickle cell disease prevented him from running for more than a couple minutes. Even these minutes left him breathless, his heart pounding uncontrollably, his body starved for oxygen its blood could not deliver. So for Orilus, running wasn't just a cute idea, it was a dream--a dream that his body could do what it had never done before.

I spent a lot of early mornings throughout last school year walking with Orilus, up and down our beach's boardwalk. I couldn't run, and at first, neither could he, so tired he was from chemotherapy still. But this summer, we both started running, just once or twice a week, in between my swim sessions, so as not to overdo it. He told me, and he told his Aunt Debby, that he wanted to run in a "real" race, and Aunt Debby (a much more experienced runner than me) promised to help us find him one.

And then one day in August, we saw an advertisement in our Lynn city paper for our city's "first annual" 5K. We decided to go for it, the three of us--Orilus, Aunt Debby, and me.

On Thursday night, we did just that. Along with my friend, Val, we ran the entire 5K without stopping. And despite recent injuries and sore muscles, the race didn't hurt. It didn't hurt one bit.

And now I know the runner's secret. If you want to feel as if you can run forever, then simply run next to an 11-year-old who believes he really can. Run next to an 11-year-old who went from unable-to-run to running-effortlessly-for-3.1-miles. Run next to an 11-year-old who chatted, and laughed, and practiced his Latin-root vocabulary words, and gave high 5's to onlookers, and waved at cars. Instead of counting the distance, and feeling every step, SEE the finish line, and ENJOY the pace.

What can I say? Both Debby and I decided afterwards that we had never had an experience like that one before. To run and feel so blessed, so full, so happy...to run and to know, really know, how much good health means, and how thankful we are for it.

You can see from the photo that Orilus took 2nd place in the 19-and-under category (he was 1 of only 2 runners under 19 years old, but he doesn't know that). You would have thought he won Olympic gold, he was so proud, holding up his arms in front of the entire crowd. I laughed, but really, I wanted to cry. Victory. He is well. Thanks be to God.

We visited his hematologist at Mass General on Friday, the day after the race (his hematologist, the one who saw him always at his sickest, and only when he was sick, and usually doped-out on morphine and STILL moaning for days in a hospital bed, the one we called frequently panicked at wee hours of the morning when a pain crisis would suddenly erupt). Orilus brought her his race trophy, and wore his race shirt for her to see, and she gaped at me, open-mouthed. "It's a miracle," this woman of science said. "Yes," I told her, "it is."

How not to feel pain while running? Witness a miracle while your legs move, and you won't feel a thing. Except joy, and thankfulness, and a deep humility for being able to keep up with a miracle-child.

back to school

Last Tuesday Team Winchell went back to school!

For the first time since their adoption, neither Orilus nor Jackson were excited to begin school this year. It's true that we are definitely a spoiled family in the summertimes--we are all home together, all summer, and we enjoy a togetherness and a level of bonding that many families don't get to experience in summertime. And, since this summer was so extraordinarily "over the top" (our Make-a-Wish trip, 2 trips to Kansas, time for camping in Vermont), I think we were ALL feeling sadness at seeing our first healthy summer come to a close.

Nevertheless, we all faced our first days of school. The boys experienced a half day on Tuesday, and full days Wednesday through Friday. They are third and fourth graders now, and with Jackson's tenth birthday at the end of this month, Jason and I are suddenly feeling like we have two much-older boys on our hands. Both boys enjoyed their teachers and friends, despite complaints that school is "a lot of work," and Orilus' comment after the first half day that he "needs a day off." Amusing. I think that both boys still struggle at times to understand why children in this country are required to spend so much time, and energy, on school. But they're adjusting. As Jackson told me last night in the car as we left his grandparents' house, he doesn't like the ending of things. And I think that goes especially for the ending of summer.

I explained to Jackson last night that endings bring beginnings, and much has begun in our lives in the last week. Jason is now taking three (!) graduate classes this semester in a rushed attempt to conform to our state's Department of Education, who decided that they were not, after all, happy with his MDiv degree. He's at class now Mondays, Tuesdays, and (most) Wednesdays. Orilus has decided to take hip hop dance classes, which begin this week. And Jackson is starting at a "real" gymnastics school this week, too, and is hoping to be doing back handsprings shortly (he's pretty close!). As for me, I've started me new job as a Curriculum Instruction Teacher (CIT) at the freshmen Academy of our high school (the freshmen were moved out to make room in our new building for the many repairs that are needed to keep it from sinking). It's been an interesting (read: rough, but by faith, I'm trying to anticipate many good things to come) adjustment to my new position, the new (actually, our old, building), and to my role as a co-teacher in 3 ESL content classrooms (math, science, and social studies). It's definitely a challenge, as many of my students are refugees from Burma, Thailand, Burundi, and Liberia, and our beginners this year are VERY beginning in English. But I love a challenge, and it's true that a part of my personality is to run quickly TOWARD challenge, to avoid boredom. I certainly won't be bored this year.

We have been trying hard to make more "room" in our lives for our increasingly busy schedule (Jason's classes, our boys lessons and schooling), and to that end, we have decided not to run Ripple Effect this year. We're taking a year-long "sabatical," partly, too, in an attempt to have time to pray, think, and talk about the many issues concerning us lately (how to create simplicity in our life, how to be mortgage-free, how to raise our kids more intentionaly, how to incorporate service in our family...). This year definitely marks a new season for us, then, in many ways.

This weekend we've spend trying to recuperate...to say that we were tired at the close of last week is an understatement. We've caught up on some sleep, spent some family time together, re-instated our date night "swaps" with another Lynn family, gone to church, and spent time with the extended Winchell family. I appreciate these slower-paced weekends when we connect with each other, with family, and with friends.

Tomorrow we're up again in the early morning hours for a new day of commuting (trying to figure out Jason's class schedule, and the boys' bus schedule, and lessons, with ONE car has been a challenge, but I think we've got it figured out), schooling, and homework-ing. Our first full week of school year 2007-2008 is upon us!