Team IronDean

I am a marathon athlete.

From the beginning of my gingery childhood, I have always had a fiery thirst for competition and speed. I watched my older brothers compete in their

cross-country running events in high school and college, and I dreamed of following in their footsteps. I wanted regional championships … state championships … national championships … and Olympic gold. One day my name would rest forever among the nation’s greatest long distance runners.

Fast-forward fifteen years: October 5, 2012. After four months of speed training, hill repeats, and endurance testing, I was finally huddled around the campfires with the other 7,000+ athletes that would be racing down the red rock canyons of St. George, Utah to pave my way to Boston. Every athlete seethed with emotion, charging the atmosphere with excitement and anxiety. Because my predicted finish time was fast, I found myself with a special bib that opened access to the “Elite” corral.  Was I cheating the system? I had never even run a marathon before!

The race start came faster than I anticipated. Before I had enough time to psych myself out, I was crossing the timing strip that meant no turning back. Quitting was no longer an option, especially due to the symbol I wore over my heart and the person who was not capable of running by my side that day.

Team IronDean: to someone unfamiliar with my family’s story this name means nothing. It symbolizes the person I am and the man I have become because of my experience with terminal Glioblastoma Multiforme brain cancer. Don’t misunderstand that statement to mean I have been diagnosed with that horrible disease. I am simply surviving brain cancer as I support my father Dean, aka IronDean, in his battle against that monster.

Even though the past thirteen months have been plagued by worry and fear at times, my experience with terminal illness has sweetened my life as I cherish a renewed desire to fortify the bonds that already existed among my siblings and parents.

If it hadn’t been for his diagnosis and surgery just four months earlier, my dad would have been racing by my side. As I soared down the canyon highway, the thought of my father’s strength combining with mine filled me with inspiration and motivation. I was racing with IronDean. My eyes watered as I felt that strength fill me with energy and hope. He was waiting with my mother at mile 23 of the race.

I let gravity do its job as I cruised down the final hill of the canyon to the city entrance. There I saw them, cheering with as much gusto as they had when I was in high school. Screams filled the air. I may have startled my parents by my reaction at having seen them, but soon the screams were mutual as they responded with cheers of their own.  I held up the “I love you” sign that my mother taught us to use since we were children and yelled, “I love you Dad!” as I tearfully tried to keep up my pace. With a 37^th overall finish and a 2:43:50 time I couldn’t contain my emotion as I sobbed and hugged my parents who had made it to the finish line after our first sighting. 

This was only the first outpouring of the strength that I have received from the example of my father, as he has tirelessly fought to beat this disease and stop it from controlling his life. I receive strength from my mother who has held us by the hand and guided us through the dark times that come with this disease. She has been an example of faith and calm in a storm that would destroy most. She has tethered us to the Gospel of Jesus Christ: a reservoir of hope and happiness. Even in the ugliest times, we have seen the hand of God as he has performed miracle after miracle for our father and for our family. I would take this cancer from my dad in a heartbeat if I could, but I thank God for the blessing that it has been in strengthening me personally and bringing my family together as we lift and support one another. Cancer has not heard the last from Team IronDean.

Just a small tidbit of information. I signed up today (September 9, 2013) to run Boston Marathon 2014. TEAM IRONDEAN!