I Stopped Saying “I Can’t”

Doctors have told me since the 80s that I can’t run because of a motor neuron dysfunction and I believed them. And I never challenged them. Then one fateful day, I read an AllEars newsletter by Michelle Scribner-MacLean detailing her first race at WDW, and I was so inspired that I decided to work around my disability and run the marathon at WDW.

I read books and blogs, signed up for my first 5K (2009 Expedition Everest Challenge!), and put on my sneakers to see how far I could go. I got a half block from my house and thought I would die. That was ok! I had 6 months to work up to those 3.1 miles and had my husband’s support and company, since I talked him into going on this journey with me. But in those 6 months, I grew very discouraged because I learned just how much my disability affected me. I ended up angrily walking much of the 5K but maintained my determination and registered for WDW’s 2011 Half-Marathon.

Somewhere along the way, I accepted the fact my body won’t allow me to run like the wind and I adjusted my expectations to do this my way. Not only did I complete the half-marathon, I had so much fun that I decided I would complete the 2012 Full Marathon!

Realizing I would need a lot more motivation & support, I joined Team AllEars.
I definitely found the motivation I needed with this team! Every time I wanted to give up, I reminded myself that my fatigue, aches, and pains are nothing compared to fighting cancer. Adding the names of team members’ family and friends to my own list of survivors and fighters gave me specific reasons to keep going which, for me, was so much more effective & meaningful than just a general “for breast cancer” declaration. This was for John. For Rhonda. For Beth “¦

And it worked. I wasn’t the fastest by any stretch of the imagination, but I completed a marathon. As the finish line grew closer, I kept welling up. I attributed the raw emotions to the exhaustion I was experiencing. Not only was our awesome Team AllCheers along the sidelines, ringing those cowbells and hoopin’ and hollerin’, guests at the parks, who paid to ride Tower of Terror that day, stood along the Streets of America, clapping and cheering for us. Tears come even as I think about it now.

Crossing the finish line, I hugged the absolute stranger who was giving me my medal – not a nice little pat; a full-blown embrace with tears, and she just hugged me back. Gotta love those Disney volunteers!

I set out on this journey to prove something to myself, but I ended up with so much more (and I’m not just talking about the great Mickey medal hanging on my wall). I knew I’d help this team raise money for Deb’s Avon Walk ($67,050! Woot!), and I knew this team would provide me with an incredible support system, but I had no idea the inspiration I would provide to others.

My cousin emailed, asking advice on how to start running. My mom has committed to walking the Princess Marathon with me next year (her first at 60 years young!). I convinced a cast member to run the Princess this year and another to start walking around his apartment complex and consider his first 5K. Every time someone said “I could never do that,” I told them my story and hoped they at least stop telling themselves, “I can’t.” It’s certainly not a phrase I use any more.