Turkey Bowl 7 is far more than a legacy of football greatness on the field, but one we can be proud of off the field. Two rival teams raising funds & awareness for two charities: OrtMichigan.org & Run4Papa.com
To support your favorite team, click: Turkey Bowl 7
Check out our Turkey Bowl 7 photos
For the past 371 days, I have gone to bed and woken up thinking of solely returning back to #BostonMarathon and finishing what I started a year ago when I was stopped at mile 25.8 due to the explosions.
What was it like to run the 2014 Boston Marathon? In a word: surreal.
I have never been a part of such an incredible race atmosphere for an entire 26.2 miles where the streets were filled with #BostonStrong spectators from start to finish.
I woke up every morning and went to bed every night thinking about what happened last year at the Boston Marathon. No matter how much I tried to write about that experience and what I saw, I just couldn’t find the words. I sat in front of my computer night after night with a blank white page and a blinking cursor staring me square in the face. I didn’t know where to begin so I squashed my heartfelt emotion for way too long: 371 days to be exact.
I haven’t spoken publicly about my experience in 2013; I barely shared anything with my family and friends. To be honest, I kept to myself for the better part of a year. There were lots of reasons for that but I think the tragedy in Boston and the images I saw near the finish line played a bigger role than I realized. I took time away from work. I became fairly anti-social and knew the direction I was heading wasn’t a positive one. I can own it. I am not proud of it, but that’s what happened. Call it whatever you want, but I will call it short-term depression.
My memories of that day are the following…I loved waking up at 5:30 am, taking the train downtown, and riding the bus to the starting line in Hopkinton. I dreamed of being a spectator at this race. But here I was, in Boston, runner #23041 waiting my turn to cross the start line from corral six. As the gun sounded, I started running my race, capturing video footage with my GoPro Camera and snapping pictures along the way.
I remember running and seeing spectators on both sides of the course for miles on end. I remember seeing a military man running with a 40-pound backpack up a hill at Mile 4. I remember seeing my mom jumping up and down at Mile 12. I remember passing the women of Wellesley and wondering why I didn’t stop for a kiss. I remember a little boy handing me salted pretzel sticks at Mile 20 as I fought my way up Heartbreak Hill. I remember posing with a man at the top of Heartbreak Hill and thinking “I am so happy that I will never have to run this hill again in my life!” I remember stopping at Mile 23 to hug my mom and good friend Adam. I remember being stopped at Mile 25.8 and being told “Your race is over!” by a Boston bomb squad officer. I remember being in denial. I remember people panicking. I remember my cell phone not working for what seemingly felt like hours. I remember finally speaking to my parents and letting them know I was safe. I remember things I wish I didn’t remember near the finish line. I remember walking 10 miles back to my friend’s place since all forms of transportation were halted. I remember thinking about how I stopped at Mile 12 and 23 to take a combined 15-minute break. I remember saying, “I will finish what I started.”
On February 27, 2014 at 9:36 a.m., I remember receiving a golden opportunity to run the 2014 Boston Marathon. Overcome with emotion and excitement, I was in disbelief, but I knew one thing: I was going to be at that finish line!
Today, I fee
l proud and humbled to be given a second opportunity.
Today, I Run4Papa.
Today, I run for #BostonStrong
Today, I run for the spectators who were at the right place at the wrong time.
Today, I run to honor those who tragically lost their lives.
Today, I run for the countless supporters of all 36,000 fellow marathoners and their causes.
Today, I run because I love life and believe in redemption.
Today, #Weruntogether.
A year ago, I said, “I will finish what I started” and I intended to deliver on that promise.
Unlike last year, I barely slept. I closed my eyes at 11:30 pm, and woke up at 2:43, 3:59, 4:22, and 5:41 in the morning. After hopping in the shower, I glanced down at my racing gear and thought to myself, “In 11 hours, I will be celebrating the completion of the Boston Marathon.” Adrenaline was rushing through every vein in my body; and to be fair, it was flowing the second I stepped off the plane in Boston 72 hours ago.
Like a year ago, I took the train toward downtown Boston. But unlike a year ago, people on the train were saying, “Thank you for running. Thank you for coming back. Boston Strong!” People wanted to know if I had a “story.” I smiled and said, “We all have one.”
Taking the bus from downtown to where everything begins in Hopkinton was exhilarating. On any other race day, I would keep to myself, save energy and focus on the mental visualization of 26.2 miles ahead. Nothing was normal about today and I loved it. I was listening and chatting away to everyone on the bus. Everyone had a story and a reason to be in Boston. A man whose dream it was to run Boston finally qualified on his 60th birthday. Twin sisters who came to Boston because they wanted to run together in honor of their friends that couldn’t. A teacher inspired by his class to raise breast cancer awareness; a cancer that took the life of his mother 4 short months before. A guy from Charlotte, North Carolina who was stopped at Mile 25.8 desperately looking to get that piece of his life back on track. The slogan for this year’s Boston Marathon was We Run Together. Boy, was that spot on.
Sitting in the athlete’s village, all I could think about was getting to that start line. I stretched, ate some bananas, drank some water and marched my lanky frame over to Corral 9. My race officially began at 11:11 a.m. as I took my first step across the starting line and ran mile after mile with Boston Strong spectators lining both sides of the streets. From Miles 1-5, it felt like the Tour de France with an estimated 500,000 people cheering 36,000 runners; however, it felt more like millions. I was being pat on the back as I ran by fans shouting “BOSTON STRONG!” Kids were running for 30-second stretches alongside us. Since I never run with music, this type of atmosphere was beyond stimulating and downright inspiring.
At Mile 8, I stopped to hug my parents along with my good friends Adam and Lauren. What a huge honor it was to share this experience with them. Last year, I heard my dad’s voice crying on the other side of the phone, relieved to finally hear from me approximately two hours after the bombings went off. This year, he was smiling and beaming with pride! After a brief pit stop, I continued running knowing that we would see each other seven miles later. At Mile 10, I came upon a man hobbling pretty badly. Once I read his shirt, I understood: running my 150th marathon with a torn Achilles! Incredible.
Approaching the halfway point, I heard women testing the limits of their vocal cords. This year, I was prepared for the women of Wellesley. While I am not one to kiss and tell, I promise you I didn’t casually run by this quarter mile stretch of screaming women and epic signage! Thank you to those that wanted to give this guy an extra boost, you know who you are!
Mile 13.1, wait, what!?! Already. Two hours in and my race was already half over. I’ve never been overly concerned with time, but this was going way too quickly. What rush was I in? The weather was a comfy 65 degrees and I wanted to slow everything down and absorb this remarkable atmosphere. Plus, I started too quickly and knew my calves were going to catch up with the rest of my body, and not in a pleasant way. At Mile 14.5, I saw my entourage again, despite thinking we missed each other half mile back. This was a massive lift! It’s one thing to hear random people rooting for you, it’s another to have it be your own parents and crew.
Feeding off their energy, I began sprinting as my friend Adam ran side by side for several blocks filming away and capturing all angles of this race for R4P. Between Miles 15-20, I passed a man with a prosthetic leg, a teenager on crutches, and a blind woman with a guide all making their way through the hills of Newton toward Heartbreak Hill. Inspiration mixed with undeniable courage continued lifting those running who were beginning to hit the wall.
And then, the monster of all hills. Heartbreak Hill. A year ago, I never wanted to see this puppy again. This year, I was going to enjoy every step. That’s right. My calves were shot and my body was fairly exhausted but how many people can say they ran Heartbreak Hill twice and actually savored it the second time around? This guy can! And when I reached the top of this grueling hill, I was sad it was done. I closed my eyes and took a couple of minutes to be in the moment. We rarely do that in life…
The next 5 miles were a combination of cramping and a fair amount of people willing runners forward. My body was tired, but I didn’t care. I was in Boston. I had another chance to run this race. I was given another opportunity to finish. And nothing was going to prevent that from happening. I received a text from my team that they were eagerly waiting at Mile 25.2; they were ecstatic when I came jogging to a comfortable halt. Pictures and hugs and pictures and more hugs were being dished out like an all-you-can-eat buffet. I recall saying, “what do you think, keep going or call it a day?”
I remember hearing my parents say, “We are so proud of you! We are so happy to be here with you!”
That said it all. It meant everything to have them at this race. Everything.
The last mile was the longest. And it was intentional.
I couldn’t believe a year ago, I was in Boston and so close to the finish line. In fact, as soon as I got to Mile 25.8, I lost it emotionally. At one point, I asked a spectator to capture some raw thoughts on film (the only footage I haven’t seen since returning from Boston). Here I was, back again, but totally ready for redemption through the support of so many people. I was ready to run those .4 miles and cross the 118th Boston Marathon finish line.
Almost 6 hours into the race, Bolyston street was still packed with people cheering at the top of their lungs. You would’ve thought this was the homestretch of the elite men’s and women’s run. I kept propelling forward but ended up gliding from one side of the street to the other. I was high-fiving everyone one I could. I was stopping for pictures and probably had a million watt smile across my face. The man next to me said, “I feel like an Olympian right now.” I don’t know what an Olympic athlete feels like, but I went with it. The last 500 feet seemed to go in slow motion. I had dreamed and obsessed over this moment for 371 days! After 138,336 strides, I dropped to the ground, kissed that famous yellow and blue finish line and pumped my fists in complete exhilaration.
I was no longer a runner, I was a Boston Marathoner!
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I am just an average person trying to create extraordinary things. Marketer by day, runner and fundraiser by night. Inspired by my “papa,” a pediatrician of 50+ years who recently lost his battle to this vicious disease. Do I have a cure…NOT YET. Am I trying to making a difference…YES! • World Wide Cases 35.6 Million = Worldwide Epidemic • This number will double by 2030 and more than triple by 2050 • In 2013, 15.5 million caregivers provided an estimated 17.7 billion hours of unpaid care valued at more than $220 billion (stats provided by the world health organization)
Last year, I said “I will finish what I started” and returned to Boston with one goal: to soak up #BostonStrong and complete the world’s most prestigious marathon
A year ago, I said, “I will finish what I started” and I intend to deliver on that promise. #R4PinBoston #26.2ahead
Boston Marathon pictures
I have never been so excited and unbelievably relieved to cross the finish line at the Big 5!
To read the full cover story, go to: MY Big 5 Marathon Run (Run4Papa)
This was the hardest race of my life! 10 times harder than the Great Wall of China!
I was nervous. And if you saw what I witnessed during our inspection drive the day before the race, you would be as well. Eager to see this course, I sat shotgun next to the ranger who took our group on quite the extensive journey. We departed from the start line at precisely 10:11 a.m.
When we returned from the 26.2 mile trek, it was exactly 1:11 p.m.!
What I saw on that excursion made my insides nauseous, kinda like watching Bizarre foods on the travel channel, except you are the bizarre food. During the first six miles of the drive, I was smiling and admiring the beauty that is Entabeni animal reserve without a care in the world. That became short lived. As we approached Mile 9, I glanced over at the ranger and said, “Who the heck designed this incredible course!?” At Mile 16 (2 hours into the drive), I mumbled under my breath, “this is nuts.” When we reached Mile 21, I think I was just shaking my head and dead silent. There was no forgiving territory. None.
Needless to say, I did not sleep much the night before the race. I was fully aware tomorrow would be the toughest physical and mental challenge of my lifetime. And like all challenges, I was ready to conquer the Big 5 Marathon in South Africa. At least, I kept trying to convince myself over and over and over again. IF only it were that simple…
#R4P on the move
To make a donation in honor of Papa, go to: PPA Research and Education Fund (Run4Papa)
A proper military burial for a modern day saint. You will be missed Papa but your spirit and inspiration will live on with all of us.
To make a donation online in honor of Papa, go to: PPA Research and Education Fund (Run4Papa)
To watch a recording of yesterday’s funeral service and eulogy in honor of Papa, please click: http://www.irakaufman.com/funerals/index_videoarchive.cfm?funeralid=5184
The outpouring of support in the form of phone calls, texts, and emails have been overwhelming and our family is so very appreciative of all the generous and kind words directed our way. From the bottom of our heart, thank you all so much!
Below is the full transcript from my eulogy in honor of my “Papa.”
Loyal. Honest. Genuine. Humble. Selfless. Extraordinary. The most patient man in the room. The definition of having true character. Available around the clock and days that end in ‘Y’. A doctor who cared for over thousands of patients. The kindest man with the most gentle smile I’ve ever met. Inspirational, that’s an understatement. A modern day saint. These are the words and descriptions that come to mind when I think about our “Papa.”
While I pondered last night about what stories to share on this most heartfelt day, I wanted to provide a side of the “Papa” I had the pleasure of living with for the past 34 years. I know I am biased, but in my eyes, the man was a living legend who demonstrated through his actions that everyone deserves to be cared for. He also showed me time and time again that it costs nothing to be kind and virtually anything could be accomplished in the course of a lifetime through sheer determination and will power.
I wanted to take this opportunity to share a few behind the scenes stories with you today. At the age of 7, Papa and I would often walk downstairs to his large basement in his Southfield home where a red wiffle bat and a white wiffle ball were conveniently waiting for us. He would pitch to me for hours on end chasing me with the wiffle ball as I was sprinting around the poles in the basement known to us as first, second, third and home plate. Always smiling, always laughing, and always encouraging me along the way. I would ask him, “Papa, how long can we play this game together?” He would say, “I’ll keep pitching so long as your arms keep swinging.”
As a teenager, I frequently had the luxury of sleeping over his house which meant a couple things. I ate plenty of junk food and candy, I got to sleep on his couch, and even more importantly, watch TV until my eyeballs could no longer stay open. We would wake up around 6:30 a.m. so he could drive me to Hillel Day School where I would shoot baskets for an hour or so before school started. I remember asking him one morning before school, “Papa, do you ever get sick?”
Without hesitation, he smiled at me and said, “Nope. I just get to help sick children get better so I don’t really have time to ever get sick.” That remarkable selfless mentality and drive have stuck with me ever since.
Just shy of my 20th birthday, I recall introducing a girlfriend of mine from England to Papa. He looked at me. And then he looked at her. And then he looked at me and then he looked back at her. And he looked at me and said, “She is way out of your league!” I walked away laughing as they spoke for the next 30 minutes and observed the interaction that I had seen many times before with his patients, nursing staff, family and friends. He had the remarkable ability to gain your trust immediately and always had your best interests at heart, no matter whether you met him once or knew him all your life. He treated people with the utmost respect and I couldn’t help but learn and be inspired from such a wonderful man.
Most of you may be aware that Papa worked for over 50 years as a pediatrician, had a medical practice of over 18,000 families, and established life long bonds with these families from one generation until the next. At age 80, he recognized that he was unable to continue practicing as a pediatrician. When we were driving one afternoon, I asked him “Are you going to retire now?” He gave me that priceless look that only Papa could give and said, “I’ll stop working when people stop getting sick.” For the next 4 years, he worked making house calls to people who were homebound because they didn’t have the means to be taken to a doctor’s office or hospital for examination. This lifelong commitment and dedication to helping people was a powerful and contagious influence on our family.
At 30, I had a very painful rotator cuff surgery that sidelined me for the better part of 9 months and I began tirelessly rehabbing 7 days a week. Being inactive for that long, I had plenty of time to think about a whole host of things, but I often thought about Papa and how he was beginning to struggle with his communication. Back in 2010, I had never heard of the disease Primary Progressive Aphasia, known as PPA, but this was the disease that had been diagnosed to our Papa. PPA is a dementia that makes a person progressively lose the ability to communicate and comprehend language. I kept thinking how unfair is this? Here is a man whose lifelong passion was communication by helping diagnose sick children, meticulously solving their problems while simultaneously calming the nerves of parents’ decade after decade.
However, his communication skills were starting to diminish. In our family, we are a strong believer from bad comes good. I became inspired and motivated to use Papa’s own example of attending to the care and needs of others. In fact, I began to feel obligated to help him and other families battling this vicious disease. I wanted to find some way to GIVE BACK to Papa that which he had given to so many throughout his life.
On Wednesday, November 2nd, 2010 I received a rare last minute opportunity to enter the NYC marathon even though it is an incredibly challenging race, I knew I needed something to get me out of this inactive and slightly depressed state of mind.
I flew to the Big Apple and began running that marathon. Throughout the race, I kept thinking about Papa and how much strength and loyalty he had to his patients, his profession, and our family. I recall thinking how profoundly ironic this disease called “PPA”, was affecting Papa and I continue to be inspired to do something that would honor a man who was so highly respected among so many in the community and certainly within our family.
After the race, my brother Jared mentioned that there was a marathon on the Great Wall of China and immediately my mind went into overdrive. Over the next 6 months, our research led us to Northwestern University, the #1 facility in the world for PPA research. Our vision was simple: to raise awareness and funds for this vicious disease that was attacking our Papa and surely affecting so many other people and families. In August of 2011, Run4Papa was created in hopes of honoring and continuing a legacy that had been instilled in all of us since we were born.
As I look around this room, I see the faces of people that believed in Papa and this cause from Day 1. Every single one of you have contributed to the Run4Papa cause and made what began as an inspirational idea into an extraordinary charity and reality. We are also grateful and overwhelmed by your generosity.
I remember showing Papa pictures of all the various races leading up to the Great Wall of China. You could see the excitement in his eyes. Well, that is, until we arrived at the picture of the insanity that is the Great Wall steps. He looked at me and was able to say, “How will you run that?” I glanced back at him with a huge smile and said, “I have you as my inspiration and that will be more than enough to carry me 26.2 miles including the 5,164 steps.
At 32 years old, I came back from China with medal and put it around his neck. I felt so proud and honored that he could experience this journey from start to finish. And honestly, I thought it would be a one-year project. But so many of you, so many of his former patients, so many families battling against PPA everyday along with complete strangers that I will likely never have the opportunity to meet made the decision easy to continue moving forward.
Papa always told me “the key to finding a cure for any disease was through clinical trials.” After consulting with the medical team at Northwestern, we decided to put together the 1st National PPA Study in History! Through the help and support of so many in this room and across the globe, that idea became a reality within 6 months. The study has been fully funded with several patients already enrolled.
Last Friday night on Kol Nidre, as Papa was eating his last Shabbat meal with my parents in their home, Northwestern and PPA’s Run4Papa received ground-breaking news of a partnership in the form of a very large grant to be received from the Alzheimer’s Association of America. This totally ensures that the speech therapy trial, so beneficiary to PPA patients throughout the world, will continue to receive this groundbreaking therapy for years to come.
To quote my cousin Jordan Lanyi “We lost the heart and soul of our family. The most selfless man to ever walk this earth. A pediatrician who practiced for over 50 years and helped thousands of kids, and a grandfather who would do anything for his children and grandchildren. You were an amazing person Papa and we will miss you every day for the rest of our lives.”
Papa. I know that a large piece of what I do in life has been directly influenced by the special relationship we had over the past 34 years. I miss you tremendously, I love the compassion you showed us every day for all 88 strong years of your life, and I promise I will keep running for you as long as my heart beats.
As I see it, I hope Run4Papa will be a testament and continue the legacy of a man who has always been loyal, honest, genuine, humble, selfless and extraordinary. The most patient man in the room. The definition of true character. Available around the clock and days that end in ‘Y’. A doctor who cared for thousands of patients. The kindest man with the most gentle smile I‘ve ever met. Inspirational, that’s an understatement. A modern day saint.
