There exists a stark contrast in the stoic individualism and the greater sense of community found in endurance events. The words marathon and Ironman competition aren’t always synonymous with team sports. Usually images of people spending countless hours solitarily training and competing come to mind. There was actually a novel by Allan Sillito called The Loneliness of the Long Distance Runner in which a delinquent youth during his incarceration finds haven in running and stops short of winning a race for his detention facility as an act of outright defiance. Songs have also been written with the same title and similar themes. There is no denying the rugged self determinant quality many endurance athletes possess which allows them to go at odds with their environment and own physical limitations. In addition, it’s hard to argue the solace many athletes find in the solitude of their own thoughts.

Often utilizing their personal space for reflection, athletes perhaps take an introverted approach to handling stress and adversity. Yet these same people come together to collectively support and encourage one another in a way which forms a lasting and powerful bond of friendship. If only by virtue of training and disciplining the mind and body, an active lifestyle precluded athletes from illness or hardships. The reality is far more humbling, serving as a harsh reminder of the risks we face on a daily basis. It doesn’t seem so long ago reading about distance runner Ryan Shay dying shortly into the Olympic marathon time trials in New York. Just before, Chad Schieber collapsed during the hot, humid Chicago Marathon. More recently, a stellar triathlete and renounced psychologist, Barbara Warren, was removed from life support after a bike crash in Santa Barbara left her in a vegetative state. So often we hear about tragedy in the athletic community.

Now, just as I’m saying athletes are not immune, I’m also not arguing they are more susceptible to danger. The point is, anyone can succumb to the perils associated with living life. The greater question is, separately and collectively, how do athletes come to terms and reconcile the greatest of life’s challenges. Many events are held in someone’s honor, often raising awareness and funds to treat a condition or support a cause associated with the person’s life. Whether it’s a triathlon, running, cycling, or other event in memory of someone who had a passion for the sport, these events unite athletes in a spirit of goodwill.

Two summers ago, I competed in the Flat Rock Run For Ryan. For those of you who may not know, Flat Rock is a small community in the Downriver area just south of Detroit and only a few miles from my home. I enjoy community events because I can show local support and be able to return home quickly. What I didn’t realize was that something special was going to happen at this event. The race itself and the amenities were great with everyone going all out to make sure the runners were well taken care of. The most moving part of this experience was the medal ceremony. I finished second in my age group and thankfully stuck around to receive my medal. Honestly, it’s only been recently my running had improved to the point that I can place, so I still got excited about it. When my name was called, I went to receive my medal and this woman hugged me saying, “Thank you for being here for my son.” It was Ryan’s mother. Ryan Sergent was a Flat Rock cross country athlete who collapsed and died during practice. This race is held in his honor every year.

Although I don’t know Ryan’s mother personally, there was something very touching about our brief encounter. I could understand how she would have every right to be angry at the sport of running for taking her son. Even though there were likely other complications, Ryan’s death came during his training. Yet, instead, here she is turning her grief into something positive and affirming. Even though she lost a son, she gained a whole new extended family to which she has opened her arms. Such acts capture the sincerest and deepest convictions of strength and courage.

I still remember the photo of Fred Lebow and Grete Waitz crossing the finish line together in 5:32.34 at the 1992 New York City Marathon. Fred, the founder of the New York City Marathon, had just turned sixty and was battling the cancer, which would ultimately take his life. There was concern he may not be able to complete the course. His friend Grete, nine time New York Marathon winner, stayed by his side for the twenty six plus miles.

In many ways Fred and Grete’s memorable finish best exemplifies the power of individual fortitude and the strength of human connection. In the end, it was Fred’s battle with cancer and it was his race to complete. No one could do that for him, just as no one could suffer and ultimately die for him. It was his life and his journey to make. No one could walk in his shoes. All anyone could do is walk (or run) by his side along the journey.

Written by Ted Varkas