One Year of Mountain Trails

One year ago I wrote about attending the Redbud Trail Challenge at Ohio Wilderness Boys Camp.

That post sounded cheery, but I didn't share everything. That was the week that Ed began having severe headaches. We should have stayed home, but we had all looked forward to going to Ohio. Ed pumped himself full of pain meds, fought severe fatigue, and drove our family the five hours to camp. God had to have been protecting us.

Ed was planning to run with our children, but on Saturday he woke up with severe headaches and nausea and spent the day in bed. He missed the elation of crossing the finish lines, but also the downpour and incredible mud. By evening he felt well enough to join us at the campfire. My most precious memory of that weekend are of my dad and two brothers laying their hands on Ed and praying for him. Two weeks later Ed was preparing for brain surgery to remove an aggressive tumor.

In January of this year Ed challenged our children to start running again. If he felt well in April, he wanted to go back to the Red Bud Trail Challenge to celebrate one year. We put a chart up in the kitchen and all of us ran/walked 30 miles in January. It was a great way to fight off the winter blahs.

Then in February Ed began to have less energy. We discovered his tumor was growing and he had a second brain surgery in March, but the dream of returning to Ohio in April didn't die.

This past week Ed began his new treatment of a low dose of chemo combined with an new experimental drug. He had two doses of the new drug and both made him very tired and nauseous. But the side affects were also short lived so Friday found us traveling the road to Ohio Wilderness Boys Camp.

My brother Todd had served as camp staff for several years, but he moved home this past year. But that didn't keep a number of my family from deciding to come for the Run. Here is all who made the trip.

And here are the runners (or walkers.)

The day started overcast and cool with a sprinkle of rain. Memories of the horrors of mud slopping last year came to mind. But the sun came out and it was a beautiful race day -not too hot for the runners; not too cold for the watchers.

I love to see the eager anticipation of the 5K runners at the starting line. 

And the look of accomplishment when they cross the finish line.

It was hard to see Ed on the side lines instead of running with his children. Ed is feeling very well most days, but he is only six weeks from brain surgery and he doesn't have the strength for mountain running. 

It is even harder to think of the "what ifs." What if this is his last year? What if this is our last family trip? What if...? 

Sometimes it feels like cancer stole our future. I know none of us have any guarantees of life tomorrow, but most families are not forced to consider every year as possibly their last. There is nothing kind about cancer.

But I can't dwell on what has been stolen or waste time being angry. That would steal the joys of today as well as tomorrow. We do have much to be grateful for. The fact that Ed feels well one year after a gbm diagnosis is a gift that many don't have. 

On Sunday we worshiped with the camp staff in their little church. With all the visitors the singing was marvelous. My brother shared the story of their infant's lengthy hospital stay. Then Ed shared his testimony of the last year.

One of the verses he shared was  3 John 1:2 "Beloved, I wish above all things that thou mayest prosper and be in health, even as thy soul prospereth." I'm grateful that Ed can say that his soul is in good health. To see Ed fighting up the mountain to enjoy each day without bitterness helps keep me from being discouraged. 

There is a lot of terrible things in this world. Cancer is one of them. 

But we've also found many wonderful gifts from God along this trail. And heart peace is one of the best.