Angela Josephine

@runcannonrun “Happiness is an unexpected bike trail #lakemichiganzen #LIVESTRONG”

It’s late Friday morning and I see this tweet while debating a run.  Earlier I had read about Steve Cannon on The Ticker. Steve is running 40 marathons in 40 days to raise awareness, money and HOPE for The Lance Armstrong Foundation and all those fighting Cancer.  He is attempting to be the first person to RUN around Lake Michigan and according to The Ticker’s facebook, he’s coming through Traverse City later today.  Having lost a father-in-law, a sister and friends to this disease, and having family members who are survivors, I am particularly taken by this adventure.  Plus I am a runner and a Michigander.  My plan is to drive to Sunset Park later in the afternoon to show my support and cheer him on.

The bike-trail part of the tweet however gets me thinking, “Could Steve be in my neck-of-the-woods?”   I check www.theruntocurecancer.com and sure enough his route for the day looks to take him along the very bike trail I frequent.  But really, what are the chances?  It seems a stretch that our paths will cross; yet there is an insistent urging I can’t ignore –  “run Angela run”.

That’s it, I decide.  Debate done!  Worse case scenario, I’ll get in a good run, shower and head to the park to catch Steve there.

No sooner do my feet hit the trail when I see a tall, athletic dude loping toward me, trail-running poles in hand. I suddenly realize that I have NO idea what Steve looks like and cringe inwardly at the thought of asking every athletic dude along the way if he is that Steve guy.  (There is no downside to this for some, I understand.)

“Hey!  You wouldn’t happen to be that Steve guy?”

A broad smile lights up his bearded face.

“I might just happen to be that Steve guy!”

Sweaty handshakes are exchanged and I hesitantly ask if it’s o.k. to run with him for a bit.  He says yes – that he would definitely welcome my company.   I’m relieved and somewhat astonished. Did this really just happen?

We run west along the TART trail.   Conversation comes swift and easy.  (I think it’s the adrenalin.) I thank him for what he is doing and share how cancer has affected my family, then tell it all over again when he asks to take a video to capture the story as we run.   Steve gets a little emotional and I worry that I’ll be a drain on him.  He assures me that this is just what he has been needing.  Our talk turns to books we’ve both read, (Marshall Ulrich, “Running On Empty” – Steve’s bible) and people who have inspired us.   I’m the TC tour guide as we go from East to West Bay with the OMP in between.  The trail passes fast.  At least that’s how it feels to me.

What started as running with Steve for “a bit” turns into an escort to Sunset Park where we meet Jarred, his #1 support man, roadie and personal chef.   I’m handed a Sharpie to add my family history to others who have signed the back of the RV that has become a traveling testimony to survival and a memorial to the lost.  Steve is resting in the shade and refueling on some delicious looking pasta.  People come by to offer their thanks and Lynda from The Ticker is here.   I volunteer to reconnoiter a replenishment of Heed supplies, discovering that Running Fit carries the product and zip off into town on Lynda’s cruiser.  Back at the park, Steve is ready to move again.  Just as I’m considering my options for getting home, he asks if I’ll join him on the next leg of the run.  I’m willing, but hungry!  They fill my stomach (and hands) with Drennan bars lovingly named after a survivor friend who made a massive batch for the 40 day run.  Jarred tells me that Drennan just finished the RAAM!  This gift of sustenance and the woman who provided it humble me.

The next miles are full with thanksgiving for unpaved trails, shade and breezes off the bay.  We talk about joy – the kind that “gets you out of your head” – and of that Russian runner in Marshall’s book who steps on the trail and is immediately able to be in that place, or out of it depending on how you look at things.  I ask Steve about his mother and he can barely speak but to say he owes his mom for who he is today.   This is a serious turn and I am respectful of the silence that follows.  After a time,  Steve says he needs to tell me something.  He wants me to know that what I did today – listening to that still, small voice that got me out on the trail with him – that I should pay attention to that.  Trust me, I’m paying attention.  Except to the mileage.  We realize we’ve overshot the next checkpoint and need Jarred to drive out to us.  That’s getting out of your head!

All in all, I share 10.5 miles of the 26.2.  I want to go further but have a gig tonight.  It’s odd to say goodbye.  I’m feeling a little protective of Steve’s trek through Northern Michigan now and am glad to hear that Lynda will be joining him later.  We have moved beyond handshakes and exchange sweaty hugs.  The final big deal for me is riding back to town in the support RV thanks to Jarred!  We agree that the title roadie may be in my future.

I’m a runner, but at the most have only run a ½ marathon so I’m not naïve enough to think I can honestly relate to what Steve is doing.   However, the more Steve speaks of this run, the more I recognize parallels to the battles I’ve seen fought by those around me, and some of the things my husband and I experienced as we provided end-of-life care for my father-in-law.

“You just want to get started and deal with it.” “A lot of it is just one foot in front of the other.”  “You can be very sure you have what it takes but are not absolved from doubts that question your resolve.”  “Many times you have to draw deep from a well of reserves and go places where you have never gone before, past your reserves.” “You’ll be surprised what you are capable of and find out what you are made of.”  “And there are gifts along the way; the unexpected kindness of strangers, bright moments of awareness and timeless moments.”  And of course, “you have to get out of your head”.  It seems to me that the lessons of Steve’s run to cure cancer are much like the lessons of the fight to beat cancer.

Certainly, I don’t presume to know Steve from this one afternoon and admittedly these lessons are my paraphrased, adrenal-laced recollections.  What I do know is that on June 22, 2012 – the 26^th day of 40 and 650+ miles in, Steve Cannon allows me to run beside him for a common cause and is present – which says a lot in and of itself.  I don’t think he’s super human.  He might just be your average Joe (his friends do call him Canjo).   Regardless, he is living fully to bring healing where he can and inspiring others to do the same – all by responding to the still, small voice that says, “run Cannon run”.

• To get involved and donate to Steve’s cause go to: www.theruntocurecancer.com
• Follow him on twitter: @runcannonrun
• Follow the blog: http://theruntocurecancer.com/blog/
• People all over the world are taking action to fight cancer!  Join Team LIVESTRONG. You’ll find ways to raise awareness, raise funds—and have fun doing it.  www.livestrong.org