My Marathon With Lance
By Creighton Faust, Jr.
Photo courtesy of wbztv.com; see video here
Lance Armstrong is my idol. Has been since November 8, 1999, two days after I ran the New York City Marathon in just over 3 hours.
That Tuesday after the race started with me feeling some pain in my mid-section and ended with me waking up in the recovery room at the hospital with my doctor telling me, “You have testicular cancer – you have what Lance Armstrong overcame.”
The doctor said that running the marathon was a blessing for me – that the stress of it probably caused a blood vessel to break and forced me to get help. Lance, on the other hand, had the cancer in him probably for months before he was diagnosed and didn’t get help right away because of his off-the-charts high pain threshold. So mine wasn’t as severe – I wasn’t told I had a 50/50 chance to live like Lance was. But my battle with it was unbelievably scary too, to say the least. My wife had just had our first baby six weeks prior. I was 26 years old … and then BOOM! Cancer. Would my daughter ever know who her Daddy was? Would my wife be a widow at such a young age?
Knowing that this cancer was very beatable thanks to Lance, I set my goal to run the Boston Marathon the following spring in under 3 hours, which would be a PR. It was not quite as impressive as winning the Tour post-cancer, but I felt it was a lofty goal at the time, being that my surgery prevented me from being able to stand up straight, let alone run, until mid-February. I succeeded with my sub-3 goal, but it was not easy coming off of two intense surgeries. Losing some weight in the process was a blessing for the marathon. It helped get over the Newton Hills a little easier, similar to Lance’s breakthrough post-cancer --- he was lighter and much more effective in the mountain stages of the Tour.
I’ve read his inspiring books. We both have three kids. Our oldest children have the same birthday. People who know me buy me Livestrong clothing as presents. People call me the Lance of the Lehigh Valley, which is where I live.
So you could imagine my surprise, come April 21, 2008, Boston Marathon day, to find out that the two of us will be in Hopkinton at the starting line, both expected to run similar times. I am wearing my yellow jersey. He is wearing his. I hear from another runner around the 10-K point that Lance is well behind us. Shoot … we passed him and I didn’t even know it! I contemplate slowing down with the hope of trying to find him, but it's too early in the race and too crowded to assure I'll be able to spot him. So I continue, at a comfortable pace that is not too fast, with the hope that he will catch up. After all, I know he’s certainly capable of making up some ground on the hills.
Around mile 22, just after Heartbreak Hill, I hear spectator after spectator say, “Here he comes … here comes Lance!” Shoot, I’m thinking again, he's putting the hammer down and is just going to blow by me. Luckily I was wrong. I turn to look behind me, like every runner around me is doing, and I see Lance about 10 yards back. I slow a bit to join his pack and catch a glimpse. I notice he is struggling more than I am. He’s sweating more and he’s breathing heavily, but still cruising at a 6:20 pace.
Wow, this is it! This is like out of a movie for me. Here I am in a position to run the last four miles of the Boston Marathon with my idol. I’m feeling good, like I can go faster and maybe get my goal of sub-2:50, but I throw that out the window. I want to run with Lance – side by side, no matter what the finish time is going to be. For selfish reasons, I want to stay close to him with the hope that he is in my race photos.
I wish it weren’t so late in the race, because who feels like talking at mile 23 in a marathon? The crowd is going nuts, screaming for Lance. The camera guy on the motorcycle is next to us. You can barely hear. But at some point the noise level drops slightly and I feel I have to say something. I say the most logical thing, which is: “Lance, I’m a testicular cancer survivor just like you.”
“Oh, really?” he replies, appearing as interested as one could be while in oxygen debt.
“Yeah, I got it a couple years after you and I’ve followed your career ever since. Thanks for being a role model.”
Lance nods his head. That’s all I needed. Heck, the guy just wants to finish the darn marathon. And I want to make sure he does too. I’d like to think it helped him feel a little more comfortable in the last couple miles running side by side with a fellow survivor. I know it did for me. I got a nice handshake at the finish.
Thanks, Lance. Congratulations. And hope to see you next year!
Creighton Faust, Jr. lives and runs in Pennsylvania's Lehigh Valley.
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