I am always amazed how certain moments can change your life forever. It happened to me while preparing for the Walt Disney World’s Goofy Challenge. This is a weekend of running starting with a half marathon on Saturday followed by a full marathon on Sunday. A total of 39.3 miles in two days. The event takes place the first weekend in January and I’d been waiting almost a year for the time to arrive. This would be the most difficult physical challenge I’d ever attempted.

 

Six weeks prior to Goofy, I had completed my first long distance back to back training runs — thirteen miles followed by twenty miles the next day. I wasn’t surprised by the level of pain I endured. What caught me off guard was I felt surprisingly well the following day. This was a huge confidence builder and I finally felt prepared. All the months of long mileage were paying off. With one phone call however, I found myself faced with an emotional behemoth. I was told my father had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. There was a part of me that immediately wanted to quit preparing for the race. I had enough on my plate now just dealing with my emotions. Then I would reflect on the number of miles and hours I had run in preparation. Every week since the start of July, I put in an enormous amount of time and effort and wasn’t sure I could just walk away without taking it to the finish line.

 

I started playing a mental game. I would take it one day at a time. My runs after this were difficult and the stress was taking its toll. After my dad’s surgery, he was rushed back to the emergency room with multiple infections. My mom was afraid for my dad’s life. I didn’t know whether to run the race or spend that time with my family. I phoned my dad one evening and he said not to forget to bring my medals to the hospital after I finished my races. That was it. I was going to do the Goofy challenge. For my Dad. I was banged up, exhausted already physically and emotionally depleted. Ahead of me 39.3 miles.

When I arrived at the start line Saturday morning, I noticed I was not filled with the usual excitement. I was there physically but was waiting for it to be over. It took forever just walking to our corral and another 30+ minutes to cross the start line. It was 6:00 am. and already hot and humid. There were so many people crammed onto half a road that walking at a quick pace became nearly impossible. My frustration was mounting with every slow mile. I remember trying to cross the road at one point to use the facilities, but had to wait for a break in the front runners that were already on their way back from Magic Kingdom. As we made our way through the Magic Kingdom parking lot, I thought I was going to get sick. I started walking in the grass on the side of the road in hopes I could cool down. Finally, we made it through Cinderellas Castle and were almost half way home. The road finally widened and we were able to run, going outside the cones into the emergency lane. We found ourselves finally back at Epcot. Day one had came to an end. We received our medals just in time because they ran out shortly thereafter. It was a drive home and an attempt to recover. Then back up at 3:00 am to start day two.

 

The next morning started with a whole different energy. There is something special about the distance of the marathon. You can sense a feeling of mutual respect just for getting to the start line. Everyone knows it’s a hard year of training and a long way to go. When we finally get started, there is plenty of room on the road. This is not an out and back like the ½ marathon, so we have the entire width of the road. It doesn’t take long to notice the other Goofy Challengers with their colorful wrist bands. This is when I realize that a female blind runner who we happened see yesterday, was one of us — a Goofy Challenger. In these moments, I am reminded of our strength and it motivates me to move forward.

Exiting Magic Kingdom, it’s starting to get really hot. People are beginning to drop out from heat sickness. It seems everywhere I look someone is getting sick or sitting down waiting for the medics. Ice is being delivered to the injured and I watch longingly as they put the cold pouch of ice on their heads and necks. It’s hot, humid and to make matters worse the race organizers are running out of water. Before entering Animal Kingdom we are told there’s no water and “keep going until the next aid station.” I already think there’s no way I’m finishing this thing, but David keeps urging me forward.

Inside Animal Kingdom I’m looking forward to the shade that the foliage can provide. I am overcome by disappointed however, when I realize it feels like a hot humid jungle with absolutely no breeze. This makes going through the park a lot less enjoyable. The air is stifling. As soon as we exit, there’s a breeze alright. . . the kind that blows hot air right into your face.

 

It’s hotter now and reaching midday. We’re going to be running on the black top for the long turn around. It’s about a 5 mile trek with no break from the glaring sun. There’s an intense heat radiating up from the black top. David and I keep moving forward only to be disappointed again at the next stop. They’ve run out of fruit. This is unbelievable. I can’t figure how they could be so unprepared. Then the worst news is already spreading to the back of the pack — no water again at the next water stop. That’s it! The breaking point! I know now I can’t go on as it’s too hot and I’m already getting dehydrated. When we arrive at the next water stop, we luck out. A truck has just delivered bottles of water. The volunteers were just handing the full bottles of water to each runner. We were more than happy to carry this large clunky plastic weight, for it was a life saver. I checked to make sure all of the runners around me had enough water and were cooled off before dumping the remaining water over my head.

 

My shoes at this point were already soaked from the water I had poured on myself throughout the entire race When I first started cooling my head, I would bend over so as to avoid getting my sneakers wet to avoid blistering. All of this went out the window. Now it was survival mode. I no longer had the time or energy to waste with any extraneous movement. This was now a march to get to the finish line.

 

There were a number of moments after completing the hot turn around where I could have quit. I remember I kept saying to David, “I’m done, I can quit now and no regrets.” The medical tent looked inviting. I could have just sat down and taken a van ride back to Epcot. The thought of relief kept creeping into my consciousness and it made every step feel futile. I questioned what accomplishing this event meant to me. It wasn’t going to change the state of the world or cure my father’s cancer. What was the meaning behind it all? With these questions spinning around in my thoughts, I found myself still moving forward. I had even unknowingly gone past the medical tent.

 

Running now into MGM Studios, we pass an aid station where they’re handing out chocolate candies — all different types of chocolate and as many as you wanted. You would think this would be fun, but after one bite, I wasn’t sure I could swallow the thick sweet, gooey substance. Everything at this point tasted sickeningly sweet and my teeth were starting to hurt every time something sugary touched them. I knew at this point I’d come to far to quit. Unless God says otherwise, I’m going to find myself at the finish line. With only a few miles left, I did whatever I could to keep moving. David would yell out at every little decline to fall downhill and this would help us make up precious lost time.

Then we arrived at the place heaven built. You turn a corner and there in front of you are the golden robes of the choir. This year they had set up a water sprayer right near them. I stood under the water for a brief moment and listened to them sing. The simple pleasure of the cool water and the inspirational sounds of the choir just filled my eyes with tears. This is the point in the marathon when you know you’ve made it all the way. Your day is done. A few more yards and you cross over the finish line.

 

To this day, I don’t know how I survived the weekend. I only know that I’ve learned a little more about what I have inside. David put it best. . . I don’t think I became stronger from doing the race, but I realized the strength that already existed within myself.

Looking back now I still have difficulties thinking about the entire weekend. So, like the race itself, I break it down into manageable chunks of experience. Would I recommend this race? Yes. For anyone wanting to take themselves on and discover who they are when it’s over.

Lisa A. Leitl