Now or Never
Photo credit: Times Colonist
My mind chatters. I don’t feel like doing the circuit after such a long day at work. I’d rather open another bottle of cold Viognier and make some guacamole to go with those fabulous blue corn chips. The avocados are just ripe enough, I think.
I signed up for Zoom fitness classes at the end of March with my trainer Spencer who feels more like a therapist these days. “Doing great on the pushups, Janie,” he says, peering at me though the screen. Not so great I think as I pathetically push up from my sixty-one year old knees rather than from the tips of my toes. He’s making a valiant attempt to keep my spirits up during this global pandemic.
My mind babbles on about why it makes sense to be a sloth rather than an athlete in this stressful time, and then I remember my Callanish friend Lise who wrote to me six weeks ago from Victoria. ‘It’s now or never,’ she said in an email. She had just completed brain radiation for metastases secondary to breast cancer and had also received chemotherapy that same week. And her cancer had recently progressed in her lungs. Lise had decided to run a socially-distanced marathon on May 1, 2020 with her friend Grace, to raise money for Callanish. This was to be her first full marathon.
Lise and I met two years ago when she attended a retreat for people living with cancer. She wanted to figure out how to stay hopeful about the future and find peace with death. How can you prepare to say goodbye to your children when they are barely old enough to understand that death is forever? I have watched in awe these past two years as Lise has taken on this formidable task.
She attended a weeklong retreat this past February for young adults living with metastatic cancer focused on helping them to come to terms with death while keeping their hope alive. A week after the retreat, Lise texted me. ‘I really do feel more grounded after the retreat. Even had a nice snuggle in bed with the kids this morning and told them the results of the scan which lead to a bit of talk about death and Benoit asked curiously but not in a scared or sad way what it might look like when I die. It was so sweet.’
I have worked with many parents who have to say goodbye too soon because of cancer and it is always the hardest work I do. I want to rage against something or someone. I want to blame and yell that it’s unfair and cruel, and I do sometimes. I’ve learned from experience however that my outrage doesn’t do much good.
Right now in this pandemic, we have entered a new, unforgiving and painful world, like so many people with new cancer diagnoses have to do every day. This new landscape frightens us, breaks us with grief and shakes us with uncertainty. Some of us want to deny what is happening. Some want to preach that Armageddon has come and others, most of us, are trying to adapt by activating this innate human capacity we came into this world with. Through the stories we hear of our ancestors who lived through wars and pandemics, we start to believe that we too have the fortitude to get through this, somehow.
Lise knows that she can never truly be at peace to leave the life that she so desperately wants to live with her children and family, but developing the courage to talk about death openly with the help of her friends with Stage IV cancer, she has found a way to inspire her community by making every day matter. She doesn’t blame anyone, or collapse into despair (although I know she has her moments). She asks what she can do to make this world a better place, for as long as she can. And then she does it. Perhaps we can all do better than just get through.
Of course none of us could witness Lise cross the Finish line because of physical distancing, so instead of being there we focused on what we could do from home. Lise’s friends and family members were secretly emailed and asked to provide rallying phrases of support which would be painted on large signs and placed every 1-2 kilometres along the lake route before Lise arrived. My sign said, Lise, you inspire me every day to LIVE life. Other signs read: Every Step Counts, you GO girl! And, Thank you Lise for your amazing Light!
Lise’s two children ages four and seven were able to be at the Finish Line along with her husband Chris. Friends dotted the route to holler encouragement, or honk and wave from their cars, as Lise and Grace ran by. National news had caught wind of this remarkable feat and they were there too. Lise and Grace finished their marathon in 4 hours and 23 minutes, and raised an unbelievable $65,000.00, in one week.
Now just a month later when Lise’s determination and grace come to mind I have no choice but to tackle my lethargy, dissolve my anxiety about what’s ahead, and rest in the hope of possibility. Today, I feel utterly inspired by her tenacity and buoyed up by her ‘now or never’ approach to life. Looks like I won’t be cancelling my 45-minute circuit class this evening and I better keep the cork in the bottle for another day.
Watch Lise’s news footage here:
https://globalnews.ca/news/6897932/coronavirus-victoria-mom-socially-distanced-marathon/