Passing the Torch

I grew up in the 70s when air travel wasn't the norm. We were lucky enough to go on annual vacations, and my parents' choice was always Walt Disney World. They would load us kids up in a Ford van at 2 a.m. and start the long drive from Chicago to Orlando. We would wake up somewhere in Indiana, be fighting by Kentucky, and my father would have to separate us with suitcases by the time we hit the Tennessee border. I truly don't know how they did it, but I'm glad they did. 
 

Disney was always about making memories. It was a time when my father and mother were present, and everything else in the world stopped for a week. My father would carry me out of the Magic Kingdom after a long day, and I can remember my face bouncing up and down on the strength of his shoulder. We were connected, having fun, and loving life. 
 

Memories are what we hold onto when life rolls through ups and downs. I've been fortunate enough to share many memories in the house of the mouse. From childhood vacations to running the first marathon – Walt Disney World is a magical place. 
 

My baby brother Scott and I ran the 2008 Walt Disney World Marathon in memory of my father, whom we lost to a brain tumor. He was with us with every step, through every park, and on every ride. We could even hear his voice barking at us in the van to change the 8-track tape. (We must have listened to the Sound of Music 1,000 times in a row – "Doe, a deer, a female deer.") It was my brother's first marathon and a cathartic experience to run for our dad. 
 

Training for that race was our therapy, our hope, and our future. 
 

The marathon was our carrot that guided us through miles of sadness toward a new life without our father. 
 

When we lose someone we love, life is impossible to bear. The pain devours our whole being, and it takes every last bit of energy to take a step forward. But with one step comes another and another, and though it doesn't get any less sad, the pain goes by the wayside to new life experiences.
 

It was a year ago last month that my brother passed away from brain surgery. He was 42 and had a 3-year-old son Pierson. Last weekend, I found myself toeing a new start line with Pierson (P-man) in memory of my brother Scott, his father. That's right, Pierson was signed up for his first race, and it was at Walt Disney World (perfect, right?). Passing the torch of memories and running forward for a new generation.
 

You never know how kids will react when they run a race, especially their first one. Up early, we set out to the ESPN Wide World of Sports track and prepared for the 200-meter dash. The two of us took a minute pre-race to remember his dad, warm up, and talk over pre-race strategy. Here's his pre-race interview. 
 

 

We were called to the start line, and all the parents and significant others lined up with their kiddos. As Forrest Gump once said, "Life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what you're going to get." Would P-man run? Would he cry? Would he sit down on the track and have a Disney meltdown? Time would tell.
 

The gun went off and so did P-man! With a smile as big as Mickey's, he quickly digested the first 50 meters. His little Planes shoes were striding short and quick, his arms were relaxed and swinging with power, and he even had a little forward lean. Turns out all those laps in his PJs around his Nana's couch had paid off. 
 

As he came around the turn, he slowed up and said he was getting tired (that darn wabbit strategy). He had that look of "I'm not sure I can do this." I quickly pointed out the checkered finish line 100 meters ahead, and he found his second wind and took off before I could say Zippity-Do-Dah! He finished strong, and the first thing came out of his mouth post race was, "I want to do that again!" (He's got the gene!)
 

Running at Disney with my brother and nephew were transforming experiences for the three of us. 
 

We ran to heal our hearts.
 

We ran to unite our souls.
 

We ran to remember.
 

And we ran to move healthfully forward through the loss and on to a new normal.
 

Life can pull you down, but running always lifts you up. Thank you to Walt Disney World for providing so many years of magical memories.
 

Happy Trails.